


(7) Men

by Sarcasticles



Series: (7) Series [3]
Category: One Piece
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, Non-Graphic Rape/Non-Con, Slavery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-08
Updated: 2018-05-19
Packaged: 2018-11-11 01:34:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 15
Words: 56,230
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11138583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sarcasticles/pseuds/Sarcasticles
Summary: Hancock had never seen a man before setting sail for the first time. In the four years it took to get home, she wished she never had





	1. The Coward

**Author's Note:**

> Men is the third in a series of semi-connected stories delving into the culture surrounding the Celestial Dragons and the effects of slavery and bigotry in One Piece. The first two, Words and Sales can be found on my profile but are by no means required reading for this fic. I have the entire thing written and posted on ff.net, but it's extremely rough and plan to do some major editing before posting here. Updates should be semi-regular 
> 
> This is my first M rated fic. It is rated for strong language, violence, and non-con elements. There are some pretty strong hints about what slavery was like for the Boa sisters, and as despicable and distasteful as it is, I feel like it is still something that needs to be addressed. However, there will be no explicit sex scenes. Not only are Hancock and her sisters extremely underage, I find the trend of romanticizing abuse and using it for titillation to be disturbing.
> 
> Lastly, huge shout out to Tomas the Betrayer, whose fic Friends in Low Places (on ff.net) helped me really appreciate Hancock as a character. Without that oneshot, this story would look very different, if it ever got written at all.

Awareness came slowly. Her first thought was that she was intolerably thirsty, her mouth dry and gritty. The water barrel was down in the galley. Would it be seen as weakness to go get a drink? Some of the others still hadn't accepted her as one of their own - she could see it in their eyes when they looked down at her and her sisters. She would win their respect one way or another, but she was so thirsty, and her head ached...

Boa Hancock blinked her eyes open slowly, adjusting to the darkness. Where had all the light gone? The Boa sisters had been standing on guard duty while the rest of the Kuja Pirates went to port. It had been a bright, sunny day, deceptively pleasant by Grand Line standards. Wondering what in the world was going on made her temples throb, and Hancock rested her head against rough wood.The fiery, pins-and-needles sensation of lost circulation made her fingers tingle, but when Hancock tried to move she found that her hands were bound fast.

Hancock jerked upright, or, at least, she tried to. Thick ropes were tied around her wrists and ankles, while a chain pinned her arms to her sides. A cloth gag muffled her indignat cry, and the only thing she heard in response was the gentle lapping of waves just outside her prison.

Was she in a ship, then? Where were her sisters? What had happened to the Kuja Pirates? Hancock didn't know. The only thing she knew was that she had been captured by an unknown enemy, and when she freed herself she would make them regret their error in judgment.

* * *

 

Men were arguing. For what seemed to be the hundredth time since regaining consciousness, Hancock tried to stand and ready herself for battle, but her she could not break free from her restraints. With effort she had managed to wiggle a few feet forward. With a frustrated growl, Hancock flailed her body, trying to find some purchase so she could sit upright. Her head smacked against a hard, bony prominence...an elbow?...and stars flashed across Hancock's vision

"Ggph!" There was no mistaking Sonia's muffled grunt for anyone else. Hardly believing her luck, Hancock reached for her other sister, and with a little maneuvering could feel Mari on her other side. Hancock sighed in relief. Her sisters were still alive. They were captured and bound like animals in the bowels if an unknown ship headed toward an unknown destination, but they were alive.

Her relief was quickly replaced with impotent rage. Like all children of Amazon Lily, Hancock knew that men were little more than than beasts wearing the skin of humanity: weak-willed and not to be trusted. Despite this, she could hardly believe the lows which this particular breed of man allowed themselves to fall. As pirates, the Kuja were well aware that all was fair in war, but the warriors of Amazon Lily nonetheless held themselves to a certain standard, following a code of honor that was deeply engrained into their culture and society.

The Kuja believed in proving their strength on the battlefield. They openly and proudly sailed under the flag of their people, ready to face whoever dared challenge them. They did not use duplicitous means to sneak onto ships to kidnap children, even if those children were fully-fledged warriors in their own right.

"Dammit, Heck! You've done near killed 'em!" The muffled shouts didn't sound too far off, and Hancock went perfectly still as she listened. She had never heard a man speak before. His voice was rough, just as ugly as the creature it belonged to.

"Now don't you blame this on me, Silas," a second man said. "Those bitches damn near killed _us_. I had to knock 'em out cold, unless you want to explain how we got the shit kicked out of us by a coupla little girls."

Beside her, Sonia began to squirm. A soft nudge was enough to make her be silent.

"We don't get paid for lugging corpses. I can't believe you wrangled me into this. The captain'll kill us if he finds out."

"The captain won't find out if you keep your trap shut," the one called Heck said. "This ain't my first rodeo. Once we hit land, all we have to do is drop her off to the seller and we make a killing. Get paid more for one job than half a year's salary. Now shut up and check the log. I'm gonna make sure they're still breathing."

Captain? _Salary_? Were these men insubordinate pirates? Hancock tried to remember the events that led to her current predicament, but as the sound of heavy footsteps thudded closer she found that her memory was fuzzy and indistinct.

"Ah, there's my girls. Don't know what Silas's fussin' about. Takes more than a knock on the head to take out one of the Kuja."

Hancock craned her head as the shadowy figure of a man loomed over her. She couldn't make out his features in the darkness, but her imagination filled in the details her eyes could not provide. Men were a short, hairy race with eyes the color of blood, armed with clubs carved from the bones of giants. Even as adults their chests remained undeveloped and malformed, and they were followed everywhere they went by a horrendous odor caused by the rotting meat stuck between their razor-sharp teeth.

The shadow leaned down and cupped Marigold's face. "You've caused me nothin' but trouble. Almost shit my pants when I found out the Kuja were commin' our way, but when I heard you three were sailing with the rest of the freaks, well, I couldn't help myself."

Mari tried to slither away from the man, but he only grasped her by the hair and forced her to look at him. There was a flash of teeth as a feral smile spread across his mouth. "You managed to get a solid hit in before I could get to you. For a kid, I'll admit you can throw a helluva punch. But I think it's high time you learned what a man can really do."

Marigold's cries were muffled by her gag as the man punched her in the stomach, and she was unable to do anything to defend herself as he struck her again and again. The man laughed in perverse enjoyment.

Blinded by fury, Hancock kicked out against her sister's assailant, the heel of her foot sinking into the soft flesh of the lower abdomen. She didn't have enough room to put much force into the blow, and didn't even think enough to use haki. The sudden movement after spending who-knew-how long stuffed into a tiny space caused cramps to shoot up her legs and into her back, but that was nothing compared to the satisfaction of hearing the man who dared hit her sister howl in pain.

"You…you _bitch_!" he roared as he sank to one knee. "Aargh!"

A second pair of footsteps ran towards them as Hancock tried to hit him again. There was the sound of a match striking, and another man entered carrying a lit lantern. "What the hell? What's going on?"

"Damn bitch…kicked me in the balls!" Heck gasped, slowly raising to his feet. For the first time in her life, Hancock saw Man for what it really was. He was as short as the legends said, his face was full of dark, coarse hair. But his snarl exposed teeth of the regular sort, and there was no club—giant bone or otherwise—to be seen.

"Serves you right for getting too close! They're like wild animals. Just leave 'em alone till we get back."

"Like hell I will," the man growled. He took a step forward and effortlessly lifted Hancock up by her shirt. He cocked a meaty fist and backhanded her across the face, ignoring the protests from his partner. The blow had Hancock seeing stars, and as the man continued to hit her, Hancock was forced to wonder how her situation could have gotten this bad so quickly.

Though strong enough to be counted among the elite warriors of the Kuja Pirates, this was the Boa sister's first time sailing on the Grand Line. Some of the elders had been against the idea of girls so young going out to sea, but Hancock took her case directly to the Empress, and after proving themselves in the arena they were grudgingly allowed outside the protective waters of the Calm Belt.

_You've got pluck. Make sure it does not evolve into arrogance._

Hancock clung to those words—spoken by the Empress herself—for strength. The longer the hated man beat her, the more aware Hancock became of her sisters' presence. She fought the urge to cry out even as she heard their muted screams. She would not give any indication of weakness, not when her sisters looked up to her for support. She was strong - she _had_ to be. Not only was Hancock the eldest, of the three of the, she was the most accomplished fighter, which according to the laws of Amazon Lily meant she outranked Mari and Sonia. In the absence of her Empress, Hancock represented her country and her people and all they stood for. She could not fall.

A particularly vicious blow to the head dislodged her gag, and the next time the man's hand descended Hancock opened her mouth and bit him. He yelped and tried to pull away, but Hancock was quicker. She attacked again, this time managing to bite down at the base of his thumb. Skin broke as teeth sunk down to the bone, the coppery taste of blood filling her mouth.

Sonia and Mari struggled to free themselves, but they were too tightly bound to help their sister. Hancock clung on for dear life as the man with the lantern rushed to help his partner. It took the combined efforts of both men to make Hancock let go, and even then she took a chunk of flesh with her.

Hancock spat the gore at the hapless men. "Let me go! Loosen these chains and see what a warrior of the Kuja can really do!"

"Hells bells! She's a monster!" the man with the lantern exclaimed, backing away from the crazed girl.

"I'll kill you for hurting my sisters," Hancock snarled. "Come back and fight me! Unless you're afraid of being beaten _by a little girl."_

"Damn it all," the injured man said, cradling is hand against his body. "We can't move them like this. Silas, help me get her tied up proper."

The man with the lantern took another step back. "Fuck you, Heck, and fuck this job. Ma always warned me of the Furies. Damn me where I stand if I'm not seeing Alecto with my own two eyes."

He set the lantern down and fled, but not before Hancock saw the insignia of a gull tattooed on his bicep. Hancock blinked, not sure if she'd seen correctly in the fleeting shadows. Marines? She and her sister had been captured by the _marines_?

"Silas?" the other man said. "Silas! Get your ass back down here! You agreed to this! Damn it all, you're in just as deep as I am!"

The man never returned. The other turned towards his captives warily, muttering an oath as he did so. But he made no advancement towards them, keeping a safe distance away.

"You think you've won. The slavers at Saboady have ways of dealing with uppity bitches like you," he said. He made it sound like a promise, and the flickering light cast deep shadows over his eyes, transforming him into the monster the legends spoke of. "I was gonna play it nice and let you out every now and again to piss, make sure you were fed and the like. Nothin' drives down a price like an emaciated chit who acts like a rabid dog. But since my partner's a lily-livered chicken _shit_ , that's no longer an option. I look forward to seeing them place collars around your necks." He spat, hitting Hancock square in the face with a slimy wad of used chewing tobacco. The stench almost made her gag.

"Heh. I've been 'round long enough to see what they use cunts like you for on Mariejois. Justice at its finest." Keeping his injured hand close to his chest, he bent down and picked up the lantern. With a final look of distain, he left the three sisters.

Hancock felt her breath catch in her chest, and beside her Sonia burst into tears. _Saboady_. The Kuja didn't sail near that cursed place, and for good reason. While the children of Amazon Lily made up boogies about men to tell each other late at night, their elders and betters whispered to one another about the horrors of the archipelago. It was better to die, they said, than to be made a slave, and there was no greater shame than to be captured alive by the Celestial Dragons.

Once, when she was very young, Hancock saw this first hand. Six months after being captured during a raid, one of the Empress's elite warriors managed to escape the Celestial Dragon's stronghold, braving both the Grand Line and the Calm Belt to find her way back home. It was the bravest, most courageous thing Hancock had ever heard, and she eagerly awaited her chance to meet this heroine in person.

It was never to be. Instead of being made welcome, the warrior was shunned, stripped of her position, and made to live outside the city. Hancock was forbidden to speak to her, and it was then she learned what it meant to be a Kuja.

A warrior always obeyed the will of her Empress, never admitted defeat, and never allowed herself to be subjected to man's authority. The escaped slave disobeyed all three tenets, and as a result was made to live a shameful life when she should have had an honorable death.

Hancock redoubled her efforts to escape, but it was no use. She and her sisters were bound in iron chains, and even though her mouth was free there was nothing Hancock could do to help herself or her siblings. Slowly an icy fear spread through her chest, and direness of their situation dawned on her.

She didn't want to die. It was the right thing to do, but Hancock was only twelve years old. She had goals and dreams that hadn't yet been realized. If she were by herself, maybe she could have fought until her last breath, but Hancock could hardly stand to see Mari being struck by their captors. She couldn't ask her sisters to throw away their lives for nothing.

" _COME BACK AND FIGHT ME_!" Hancock roared. One eye was already starting to swell shut, and rivulets of blood dripped down her face. She didn't care. She would kill anyone who stood in her way. She would show these men just how strong the Kuja really were - how strong _she_ was.

But neither man made a reappearance. Over the next two days Hancock caught snippets of their conversation, slowly piecing together just how she and her sisters had been captured.

Both men were marines stationed at Saboady Archipelago. They had been at sea when they received word that the Kuja Pirates were in the area. Their captain ordered them to scout for more information, and after tapping the Kuja's snail phones realized that the pirates were planning on sailing in their jurisdiction.

They also found out children were on board, and the thought of capturing alive one of the famous warriors from the Calm Belt proved too much of a temptation to resist. An opportunistic sneak attack and chloroform-soaked rags finished the job.

But Hancock learned nothing  that would help her escape. She issued challenge after challenge, appealing to their manhood and their honor, but nothing worked. By the time they arrived at the Archipelago, Hancock and her sisters were exhausted and covered in their own filth. They struggled listlessly as they were unloaded like cargo into a tiny warehouse, but dehydration and fatigue sapped their strength to nothing.

 _I'll get us out of this mess_ , Hancock promised her sisters silently as a dirty rag was forced into her mouth to keep her from calling out for help. _I won't let us be sold_.

"We got people watchin' the building, so don't think you can try any funny business," Silas said as he checked the bindings on Hancock's arms and legs for the final time. He met Hancock's eyes briefly, before dropping his gaze, flinching as she made one last, paltry attempt to lunge at him.

"No funny business," he repeated, a faint tremor in his voice. He backed away from the three girls slowly, as though frightened, and when he reached the door slammed it shut behind him. The turning of the lock echoed through the metal walls.

Hancock scooted closer to her sisters, doing her best to comfort them through her nearness. They were again left alone overnight, and as she lay on the hard cement floor, huddled next to her siblings for warmth and support, Hancock made the bitter realization that men were nothing more than cowards, and after failing to live up to the ideals of her people, she was no better.

 


	2. The Avaricious

It was difficult to say how long they were kept in the warehouse. Hancock and her sisters were worth more to these barbaric men with their wounds healed, and Heck deemed it worth the risk to wait for a bigger payday. Hancock fought like a wildcat when she first realized what they were doing. Beatings were useless, starvation only a temporary determent; even the tiniest setback in their captive's plans would be worth it if they escaped in the end.

But Heck and his hired goons were veterans of the slave industry. It did not take them long to figure out Hancock's sisters were her one weakness. She watched helplessly as Mari and Sonia deteriorated in the appalling conditions. They did their best not to show it, but they were frightened. Sonia, especially, seemed to be on the verge of a breakdown. Hancock's free-spirited, playful sister did not handle being cooped up well.

Shackles bound their arms and legs, and dark hoods were kept over their heads except when they were being fed. The heavy material tied snuggly around Hancock's throat and smelled like stale sweat and blood. It was hard enough to breathe in the hot, dead air of the warehouse without it, and she felt like she was constantly on the edge of suffocation.

Time slowed to a crawl, with nothing but her anxious thoughts buzzing in her mind like wasps around an upset nest. Hancock knew that their chances of escape would almost disappear once they stepped foot into the auction house, but the opportunity to flee had not presented itself.

They had one chance, and they couldn't squander it. The only thing Hancock could do was wait, and if not for the steady presence of her sister's at her back, it might have killed her.  

"On your feet."

Heck's calloused hands jerked Hancock up by the armpit. She stumbled, trying to regain her bearings even though she couldn't see, and almost fell when her feet tangled in the chains wrapped around her ankles. She heard her sisters receiving the same rough treatment. With her Observation Haki she could feel that Heck had brought half a dozen lackeys with him, Silas chief among them.

"No funny business, or a put a bullet through the ugly one's head," Heck said. "Don't think I won't. Hardly worth the effort with a face like that."

Hancock bristled as a small sob escaped Sonia's lips. Their torment of her younger sister's head was equal parts unforgiveable and nonsensical. Sonia was just as worthy of her Kuja title as the rest of them, and if these men couldn't see that then they were blind as well as stupid.

Despite the fire burning within her, Hancock didn't say anything. She _couldn't_ unless she wanted Heck to make good on his promise. Instead she allowed herself to be led out of the warehouse. A slight breeze cooled sweat-soaked skin, and through the hood she could almost smell the fresh air. A sharp tug from the rope looped around her neck urged her forward.

"See, Silas," Heck chuckled, "it's nothin' more than takin' a bitch out for a walk. Not worth getting your panties all in a twist. Just gotta know how to handle 'em when they're wild."

God, she hated him.

As they were led forward, Hancock could hear and feel that crowds of people surrounded them, citizens and visitors of the archipelago. No one questioned why grown men were leading three children bound in chains. No one tried to stop the blatant crime that was occurring in broad daylight. No one paid any attention when they were prodded with the butts of rifles for walking too slow or were berated for stumbling when they walked too fast. No one seemed to care at all.

Their journey was a short one. A wave of dread and apprehension settled in Hancock’s stomach when they were pushed through the entrance of a building and forced to their knees. She needed time, they were running out of _time_.

"I'll handle it from here, boys," Heck said as the hoods were taken off the Boa sisters. Hancock blinked against the sudden light, her hair falling in a tangled mess over her face.

"So you can keep the lion's share for yourself? I don't think so," another said.

There was stony silence, and Hancock ventured to look up at her captor. Heck's face was drawn in a feral scowl, his hands too close to the knife he kept at his belt for comfort. It was young, cowardly Silas who stepped between him and the others, weary resignation in his eyes.

"Let's go. I've got to go on duty soon anyway."

All the men except Heck filed out, and for the first time Hancock took notice of her surroundings. They were in a large room, mostly taken up by the back half of a stage. The red velvet curtain was drawn closed and the props and lights stowed haphazardly away. Today, evidentially, was not a sale day.

Along the walls were dozens and dozens of cages, each full of one or more slaves. Most were human, equally divided between men and women, but Hancock did spot one with the green-blue skin of a fishman. They were a pathetic menagerie, despondent and hopeless. Her heart pounded at the thought of joining them.

"Well, well, well, what do I see here?"

Hancock jerked her attention away from the slaves as a new man emerged from behind the curtain. He was a thin, with long lavender hair and an absurd pair of sunglasses that completely obscured his eyes. He reeked of money, his clothes tasteless and expensive. Each step he took was easygoing and confident. And who wouldn’t be, with a cadre of guardsmen protecting their back?

"Got some new stock, Disco, and I think you'll like what you see," Heck said. He backed away from the Boa sisters out of deference to this new man, before swallowing hard. "Look, I don't got much time, so let's make this quick. These three are Kuja Pirates from the Isle of Woman. I want 300,000 bellies for the lot." 

"Absolutely not," Disco said, the good-natured smile never leaving his lips as he appraised Hancock like she were a cut of meat. "You insult me, coming in all business without even a hello for old time's sake. You should know better than to try and pull the wool over my eyes. _Together_ they might fetch 500,000, and then there's the cost of keeping them contained until the next sale."

"You must be mistakin' me for some sort of fool," Heck said coldly. "Everyone knows humans sell for 500,000 a head, minimum, and with their rarity that price'll shoot through the roof. At least two of them look like they've got the potential to be quality bed warmers. It'd be easy to spin the other one as some sort of novelty. 300,000 is _cheap,_ Disco, and you know it."

Disco smirked. "And I've never heard of a tradesman trying to low-ball his own goods. Something's wrong with them, or your asking price would be higher. Tell me, Heck, how _did_ you hurt your hand?"

Hancock watched the back and forth with sharp-eyed interest as Heck wiped away the sweat that beaded on his forehead with a dingy handkerchief. Even the sad excuses of humanity locked in the cages lining the walls paid careful attention to the proceedings. The aura of oppression was almost palpable.

"Handcuffs, leg irons, and hoods," Disco continued as he walked around the Boa sisters in a slow circle. "Hardly the usual hardware for transporting children."

"They're _Kuja_." Heck spat the word like it was a curse. "It's the same setup I always use for pirates."

"They're unbroken. No one's going to pay top dollar for a whore who bites."

"You'd be surprised."

Disco completed his round and came to a stop, his back to Hancock’s. He and Heck stood toe to toe, hardly paying any attention to their capital. Hancock glanced surreptitiously around her. The guardsmen stood well away from the group, and with Disco blocking Heck’s vision neither had a good view of the three sisters. With a subtle nod to the others, Hancock waited for her moment to strike.

"I've sunk 50,000 in this job so far. I've got my partner's cut to consider, medical expenses, the cost of bribing the damn owner of the warehouse…"

"That's not my problem," Disco said smoothly. "I have my principle to think of. 100,000 bellies for the lot. That's my last offer."

The veins in Heck's bull-like neck bulged and he jabbed a finger into the other man's chest. The two men were close enough that their noses were nearly touching as Heck began to shout. The words were lost on Hancock as she struck as quick as a snake. She jumped to her feet, ramming her shoulder into the small of the auctioneer's back. The crown of his head smashed into Heck's nose, and there was the sickening crack of breaking cartilage.

Making sure that her sisters were following her, Hancock rushed towards the exit. The shackles around her legs kept her from breaking out a sprint, but she was still quick enough to duck under the grasp of a guardsman wearing the ruffled collar of a clown.

"Hancock!"

Marigold's shrill cry pierced the air, and Hancock spun around. Her youngest sister was lying on the ground entangled in weighted net, Sonia trying uselessly to drag her to her feet. Hancock hesitated, glancing at the door to freedom that was only feet away.

_We're so close…_

Pain exploded through Hancock's back and she fell to her knees. She tried to roll away as a guardsman brought down a heavy sap a second time, but was too slow. The wood slammed down between her shoulder blades, and Hancock was driven to the ground. Before she could regain her senses had been dogpiled by four different guardsmen.

"The tranquilizer! Someone get the tranquilizer!" Disco yelled.

_I have to be strong…_

Sonia screamed. There was a stinging sensation on Hancock's outer thigh, like she'd been stung by a mosquito. Almost instantly her struggles slowed. When she tried to rise, a hand clasped to back of her head and pushed it back into the ground.

The world began to move in slow motion, every movement heavy, like she were trying to swim through a thick syrup. Her breathing faded from panicked gasps into a more relaxed cadence. Hancock wanted to fight, but her body betrayed her.

_Be…strong…_

Cautiously, the guardsman released Hancock and got to their feet as Disco approached them. The auctioneer rubbed his forehead, pausing long enough to kick Hancock savagely in the ribs. Hancock felt something in her side pop and bit down on her lip to keep tears from streaming down her face.

"50,000 berries," he panted, regarding Heck over his shoulder. He reached into the inside of his coat pocket and pulled out a pile of bills, flinging them to where the man was trying to stem the bleeding from his broken nose. "Now get out of my sight."

The marine scooped up the money with a bloodstained hand. He stepped over Hancock as he left the auction house, walking with a freedom that Hancock would not know for another four years.

* * *

 

“First things first, I think a little extra security is in order.”

Hancock looked through the bars of her cage with bleary eyes. The effects of the tranquilizer had not worn off completely, and it took considerable effort to do even that much. A guard fumbled with a ring of keys before unlocking the door, and Hancock thought if she could just _move_ then she could easily overpower and steal them from him.

But she couldn’t move. She couldn’t even sit up by herself, mortifying as it was to have a man help her with something so simple. Disco whistled a jaunty tune as he approached, twirling a thick ring of metal round one finger.

“It’s been awhile since I had to use one of these in your size. It took me ages to dig three of the things out of storage” he said. He knelt next to Hancock, thin fingers tracing a line from her jaw to her collarbone. He cooed softly, “Such a slender neck. Make a note of that – a swan’s neck.”

One of his associates snickered as he obediently wrote on a pad of paper. “You got it, boss.”

“Black hair, blue eyes,” Disco dictated. “About five foot seven inches. How much did you say she weighs?”

“One hundred twenty-two pounds, boss.”

“Put down one fifteen.” Disco picked up a strand of matted hair and wrinkled his nose in disgust. “Make sure she gets a bath before she eats. She smells like a broken sewage line.” He paused for a moment, looking at Hancock critically. "And put her in one of our outfits. The rags she’s wearing now aren’t fit to be burned.”

Hancock’s brow furrowed. This man was going to feed her? He was making sure she was clean and well-clothed? That fell sharply at odds with the behavior she’d seen out of men thus far. It reminded her almost of how the Kuja treated prisoners of war.

She wasn’t the only one who was confused. The man taking notes stopped writing, looking up at Disco in surprise. “Um, are you sure that’s safe, boss?”

His lips curled up in a self-satisfied smile, like a cat who’d found the cream. “With this, yes.”

Disco dug a small brass key out of his pocket and inserted it into the metal ring. It popped open easily, and when he set it aside Hancock noticed that a rectangular devise had been welded onto the metal.

Long, thin fingers grabbed her hair, each movement surprisingly gentle. Holding the black tresses away from her neck, Disco grabbed the metal ring (a collar, Hancock realized suddenly) and snapped it around her throat.

“What…?” Hancock’s tongue was too heavy to finish the sentence, and Disco laughed quietly.

“We usually reserve the explosive collars for adults, but if you’re old enough to play pirate than you’re old enough to accept the consequences of your actions. Harvey, could you bring out a demonstration, please?”

From her cage, Hancock watched in abject horror as an old man was drug from his prison and into the wide, open area behind the stage. A heavy weight was attached to his ankle to keep him from running while a collar similar to Hancock’s was forced around his neck.

"P-please, I’ve done nothing wrong!” the man begged. Tears of terror streamed down his face as he fell to his knees and bowed down to Disco for mercy. “Please, just let me be sold!

“Now, this is a prototype model,” Disco said to Hancock, ignoring the man’s cries entirely. “They hadn’t quite figured out the correct ratio of black powder to use, but it gets the point across nicely.” He nodded to one of his associates, who pulled a bulky remote out of his clothes. Hancock didn’t have time to protest before he pressed the button.

The man exploded. The other caged slaves screamed at the sound, and the flash of light temporarily blinded Hancock as bile rose in her throat. Who could do such a thing against a helpless individual? What honor was there in killing an elder who had no means of defending themselves?

Hancock retched as the stench of burnt flesh reached her nose. She tried to look away from the disgraceful sight, but Disco jerked her head back, _forcing_ her to look. From one of the other cages she could hear Sonia screaming her name, but Hancock didn’t respond back. It was impossible to speak around the lump of fear in her throat.

“If I play this right, you’re going to be worth ten times him,” Disco said in a low voice only she could hear. “It’s as the old saying goes, you can’t make money without spending money. It will be worth the loss of one old fart if I can keep you on your best behavior.”

Hancock mumbled something incomprehensible, and Disco leaned closer. “What was that? I can’t hear you.”

“He’s…still alive.”

Hancock could see the old slave’s ragged breaths, charred black fingers trying uselessly to stem the bleeding from a gaping wound in his neck. One of Disco’s eyebrows raised over his star-shaped sunglasses as he turned to see what she was looking at.

“Like I said, it was only a prototype." He backed away from Hancock and bellowed, "Will someone _please_ take care of the mess?! I don’t want a bloodstain on one of my floors!”

Immediately one of the guardsman rushed forward. He drew his heavy sap, and this time Hancock couldn’t bear to watch as he brought it down against the old man’s head, silencing him forever.

The same collar that killed a man with the touch of a button was currently wrapped around her neck, likely around her _sister’s_ necks as well. Somewhere beneath her drug-induced haze Hancock felt ill, and she knew she would not try to escape again.

* * *

 

The auctioneer visited the Boa sisters every day, watching over them like a fussy aunt. He made sure they were adequately fed and watered, and went as far to order his guardsmen to bathe them daily. That had been a terrifying and humiliating experience, but aside from some rough handling they did nothing untoward. None of the other slaves got this preferential treatment, and Hancock couldn't figure out why these strange men were treating them almost as if they were human, especially since they were still being drugged around the clock.

A week later she found out. Hancock blinked sleepily as the guardsmen flung the door to her cage open and drug her out to the stage. Two others followed close behind with her sisters. Hancock put up a token effort of resistance as they were brought to the stage, but one shove forced her to her knees.

 _It's not a sale day_ , a distant part of her mind noted. The auditorium was empty and the thick red curtains were drawn shut. Hancock forced a look of cold distain on her features, but internally she was afraid for her life and the lives of her sisters.

Disco ascended the stage from the other side. "This way, sir," he said with an exaggerated - almost comical - bow. "The goods, as promised."

Disco was trailed by another man Hancock had never seen before. His eyes were black and mean as they swept over the Boa sisters, and the temperature seemed to plummet twenty degrees. Mari and Sonia bowed their heads, but Hancock met his gaze. The unknown man tucked his hands into the sleeves of his cream colored silk robes and rested them on his corpulent belly. There was something different about him compared to the other men Hancock had seen. He was rounder, his body strangely hairless. When he spoke his voice was high pitched, almost womanlike.

"Petulant child. You said they were pirates?"

"Oh, yes!" Disco exclaimed, clasping his hands together. "They belong to the famous Kuja tribe, snatched out of the depths of the Calm Belt and transported at great expense to Saboady."

"No we weren't," Hancock said, her words slurring together. "We were in the Grand Line."

"Silence, you filthy liar!" Disco snapped. He turned back to the other man. "Their manners are…unrefined…but I'm sure that an expert disciplinarian such as yourself will have no problem whipping them into shape."

The man did not respond. He waddled to Hancock, and by some unspoken cue the guardsman jerked her to her feet. Pudgy fingers touched her hair and stroked her skin. He checked her teeth and gums, ran his fingers over her scalp, pausing when he found a goose egg that hadn't quite healed.

"Someone has been rough with the merchandise," he murmured to himself before turning to the guardsman. "Take off her shirt."

"Master Wei, I understand that you need to make sure you receive a quality product, but there are _rules_ …"

"You can take her shirt off, or you can test their value on the open market."

Disco made a strangled noise, but acquiesced to the other man's demand. Rather than take the risk of removing the shackles around Hancock's wrists, the guardsman took a long knife out of his belt, and in one swift movement cut the shirt off of her back.

Hancock shuddered as cool air touched her exposed body. The man looked her up and down with a critical eye, gaze settling on the purple-blue bruise that spread like a bottle of spilled ink over her ribs.

"Turn around."

Hancock was more than happy to comply. Cold fingers pressed on the sore area between her shoulders where she had been struck with the sap.

"Age?" he asked.

"Fourteen," Disco said.

"Twelve," Hancock replied at the same time. The auctioneer made another sputtered protest, and she jutted out her chin defiantly. "Twelve, and my birthday isn't till September

Hancock was turned back around, and the man ran a thumb over her collarbone. He said something about her being 'well developed' and asked her, "Tell me, slave, are you a virgin?"

The term was meaningless to Hancock, but the question sent Disco into an apoplectic rage. "Of course she is! She's only twel- _fourteen_ years old, for God's sake!"

The man's lips curled into a cruel smile. "How can you be sure unless she's been tested? Strip her."

With one jerk, the ill-fitting shorts she'd been dressed in were pulled over Hancock's hips and fell in a pool of cloth around her ankles. She was completely naked now, and confused. Her fogged mind was not able to keep up with the events that surrounded her, and she barely had time to react as the fat man put one hand between her thighs and forced his fingers inside of her.

Hancock screamed in pain and surprise. Thrashing blindly, she tried to pull away from the sudden invasion. What was he doing? _Why_ was he doing it? Hancock started her monthlies nearly a year ago, but aside from the days she bled, that particular orifice was ignored and forgotten about. What this man was doing was _wrong._ A _violation._ Despite her ignorance, Hancock knew that with the same certainty she knew her sisters' names.

But Hancock's movements were slow, sluggish. _Weak_. She was helpless to stop this intrusion on her dignity, and her eyes filled with tears of humiliation.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, the man withdrew his hand. Hancock was allowed to collapse to her knees, and she curled her shoulders in a vain attempt to hide her breasts. She was suddenly ashamed of something she had never felt the need to be ashamed of before. Disgust and hate welled within her, and she almost missed the man's next words.

"Everything seems to be in order for this one. Now the other two, and we can talk business."

Hancock's head snapped up, the blood draining from her face.

"Surely one is enough," Disco said with a good-natured smile. "You understand, Master Wei, these slaves are still my property. If you insist on testing them, we have licensed medical practitioners on site to carry out the procedure. I won't risk you damaging goods you might not buy."

"I'm willing to spend three million on the set," Wei said, wiping his fingers on the jacket of Disco's suit. "But only if I'm allowed to carry out my own inspection."

Disco didn't even have to think about the offer. He bowed repeatedly, his hat toppling off of his head in his earnestness. "Well! T-three million, you say? That's certainly…something. By all means, proceed! Unless you would like them to receive an extra dose of tranquilizer? They are quite barbaric, aren't they? Exquisite specimens, to be sure, but savage!"

It was at that moment Hancock knew that she and her sisters' only value to Disco was in the price they could fetch for him. The food, the water, making sure they kept clean…he was only trying to put his best product forward, fattening up his calves for the slaughter. Hancock trembled with rage, straining against her chains as Wei approached Marigold. Her sister kept a brave face, but was unable to suppress a whimper as she was stripped and put on display.

"Stop it! Don't you dare touch her!" Hancock screamed.

"Shut up, you insolent brat!" Disco snapped.

Marigold turned her head away to hide her tears as Wei pushed her legs apart, and something within Hancock snapped.

"I said _**stop!"**_

Looking back, Hancock could never say exactly how she did it. All the frustration that had built up within her since her capture mixed with her fear for her sisters to the point where it hurt to keep it contained. Like a volcano that lay dormant for centuries before erupting, Hancock was pushed past her breaking point. Her need to keep her sisters safe transformed into a sort of energy. Her body was weak but her will was unbreakable, and she would not be denied.

Fire blazed in her spirit, breaking away from her body and taking physical form. The air cracked with the power that pulsated away from the young Kuja. Hancock barely noticed as Disco and his guards fell unconscious, foaming at the mouth. Her gaze bored into Wei. The man stepped back in surprise. He stared as if seeing her for the first time.

"I said… _stop_ ," Hancock panted, her voice icy and calm despite her hate for the man in front of her. "If you touch my sisters again, I'll kill you."

Wei did not respond immediately. He tucked his hands back into his sleeves before looking at the fearless, naked creature that faced him with something akin to respect. The cruel smile returned to his face.

"Now this is an interesting development. Very interesting indeed."

At his feet, Disco began to stir. "What…what just happened?"

Wei ignored the question. "I'll pick them up in the morning. I expect them ready to depart with the tide, along with a certificate of purchase. I'll have the three million wired to your account as promised."

Hancock and her sisters were quickly ushered into their cages. Hancock barely noticed. Like all children of Amazon Lily was well versed in Haki and its various applications. She was skilled in both the Colors of Armament and Observation, although Mari and Sonia edged her out with their respective proficiencies. She was even familiar with the legendary Queen's Disposition, which had not been seen on the island for generations. What she just did should have been impossible.

But it happened. Through sheer force of will she had stopped the men from hurting her sisters. Hancock may have failed to escape the auction house, but there was still hope for them yet.


	3. The Bystander

It took two days for Hancock's fever to break and another week before she could stand to lay on her back. She had hardly seen her sisters during that time, but as far as she could tell they in no better condition. It seemed impossible, but since arriving at Mariejois their situation had only gotten worse.

"Stay still," a man said. Soft, uncallused hands rewrapped the bandages on her back.

They _branded_ their slaves. Hancock didn't have to see the mark to know that it would never go away, the shame of her weakness forever carved onto her back. She couldn't escape it, not even in her dreams.

"It's healing nicely. There's no need to reapply the salve," the man with the soft hands said. He straightened, adjusting his white lab coat. Hancock recognized him as the doctor employed by her owner _(owner, not master. The Celestial Dragons may have bought her, but they do not control her spirit_ ).

"If only all slaves had such resiliency." Wei's high-pitched voice stood out, and Hancock focused her hatred on that one man. If looks could kill, he would have been dead a hundred times over. As it was, she was smacked upside the head for her insolence.

"It's past time you learned how to behave," he said coolly. "You have officially entered the service of Saint Balan, and he does not tolerate disrespect. As his humble vassal and servant, neither can I."

If Wei was humble, Hancock would have liked to know what men considered proud. The man was a picture of excess, often wearing silk robes tailor-fit to his rotund form, usually embellished with ornate embroidery stitched in silver and gold thread. Rings studded with precious stones adorned every finger and heavy chains of precious metals hung from his thick neck. Instead of walking, Wei was followed by four slaves whose only job was to carry him in a covered litter.

And he wasn't even a Dragon. Zhong Wei was employed in a nebulous position of prominence under a noble named Saint Balan, the nature of which Hancock had yet to figure out. All she needed to know was that she hated him, perhaps more than her so-called master. The Celestial Dragons might be the ones responsible for her enslavement, but it was this glorified puffball who enforced it.

"You aren't on the high seas any longer. Your barbaric ways have no place here."

"I serve no one but my Empress," Hancock growled through clenched teeth. She couldn't even muster the strength to lift her head. The effects of the burn ravaged her young body, and because of her unusual defiance she had been given nothing to ease the pain, not even to help her sleep. She could still feel the power that she unleashed at the auction house, but it was distant, just out of reach.

The doctor coughed politely, cutting through the tension building between Hancock and Wei. "I still have to do the rest of my assessment."

"Of course." Wei took a few tottering steps backwards, and the doctor put a stethoscope into his ears.

Hancock shivered as the cold bell of the instrument was placed on her bare chest. The burn on her back made it nearly impossible to stand wearing a shirt at all, and since the humiliation at the auction house she had become self-conscious about being naked in front of others. She never had such reservations on Amazon Lily, but now, surrounded by men with evil intentions, Hancock constantly had to fight the desire to cover her developing breasts. Doing so would only be seen as a sign of weakness, another weapon to be added to Wei's arsenal against her. Hancock was already at a severe disadvantage in the battle of wills between herself and her owner's servant.

The doctor either didn't notice or didn't care about his patient's discomfort. Probably the latter, if his sallow skin and unkempt hair were any indication to how well he paid attention to appearances. The stethoscope traveled from her heart to her lungs to her gut. Hancock was asked to follow a finger with her eyes and squeeze his hands. Earlier he had taken samples of saliva, urine, and blood for testing.

"Her neuros are fine," he said sourly, massaging his fingers after making the mistake of asking Hancock to squeeze as hard as she could.

"Enough dawdling, Doctor, you've got two more after this one to see to," Wei said, eyes narrowing dangerously at Hancock. "Start the pelvic exam. You're wasting my time."

Rubbing the back of his neck, the doctor grimaced. "How old is she, Mr. Zhong?"

"Twelve. She goes to the White Room as soon as she's trained."

"Shit," the doctor muttered. He pulled a cigarette out of the inside of his coat and lit it. "Are you sure? She's awfully tall for twelve."

"And the other two are taller and younger. I wouldn't be surprised if they had a little giant blood in their veins," Wei said. "There will be no difficulty passing them off as older when the time comes."

"Sisters?" the doctor asked, scratching the back of his head.

"Half siblings, most likely. The Kuja aren't known for their fidelity."

Hancock wanted to argue that she wasn't half- _anything_ and that that one Kuja warrior was more loyal than the entire male race combined, but kept her mouth wisely shut. She quickly learned that on Mariejois the consequences for talking back were…unpleasant. The nights without any form of relief were nothing short of hell. Loath as she was to keep silent, it was better than wearing down strength that would be better spent trying to find a way to escape.

"We don't usually do pelvic exams on ones this young. Not much of a chance for disease or injury at that age."

"Are you refusing?"

"'Course not. Just stating a fact." The doctor took a deep drag and snubbed his cigarette, before throwing a glance at Hancock. "Alright, kid. On your back, feet in the stirrups."

Hancock's mouth went dry. "What are you going to do?"

"Just do as you're told," Wei commanded.

"No. Not until you tell me what you're doing."

Pain lanced through Hancock's body without warning. Her back arched impossibly far, popping open burn blisters and causing bloody drainage to trail down between her shoulder blades. The metallic taste of blood filled her mouth as Hancock bit down on her tongue.

That was nothing compared to the _pain_. Hancock wanted to scream as fire arched through her body, but she couldn't catch her breath. It seemed to last forever, and blackness crept on the edges of her vision. The agony was worse than being burned, and Hancock was sure she was going to die. She was going to die without ever freeing her sisters, without ever seeing her beloved home again…

Just as abruptly as it began, the pain ended. Hancock leaned her head against the cool linoleum floor, unsure of when and how she had fallen. It felt good pressed against the fire burning through her body, and Hancock closed her eyes. She didn't bother to look up when a shadow loomed over her.

"Stand up," Wei said, his voice as hard as granite.

Hancock ignored him.

"Your sisters have also been fitted with shock collars. You will stand, or they suffer."

Hancock clenched her fists and bit back a sob. She hated him so much, but had no choice but obey. Gathering every scrap of her flagging strength, she pushed herself to her hands and knees. Through a curtain of dark hair, she could see the doctor very pointedly not looking at either of them as he gathered a variety of ominous instruments on the counter. He said nothing, and did not offer any assistance as Hancock pulled herself to her feet. She swayed dangerously and was forced to lean against the examination table for support, whimpering as her back pulsated in response.

"On your back," Wei said, dark eyes glittering with amusement, "with your legs apart."

The humiliation was worse than the pain. Hancock hid her eyes with a hand so Wei couldn't see her cry. She couldn't continue on like this. She _couldn't_. All her life Hancock had known who she was and where she was going. Those who knew her best whispered that they were seeing a star rising in front of their very eyes. What other twelve year old managed to command the respect of warriors more than twice her age? What other child captured the attention of the Empress herself?

"You'll need to take your shorts off, kid."

The voice of the doctor brought Hancock crashing back down to reality. She stared at him in open-faced horror, not trusting herself to speak.

"Do as the good doctor says, slave. Unlike the primitive devices on the archipelago, I can shock you as many times as I like without risking death or permanent injury," Wei said, and Hancock got the distinct impression he was laughing at her.

Going as slowly as she dared Hancock did as she was told, feeling exposed and vulnerable. Every time she submitted herself to these men another part of her self-respect withered away and died. She wasn't sure how much abuse her ego could take before she gave in entirely.

"Relax. This might be a little uncomfortable, but it shouldn't hurt." The doctor donned a pair of gloves. His expression was dispassionate, almost dead, and Hancock suddenly realized what was going to happen.

"No!" Hancock exclaimed, kicking her feet out of the stirrups. "He already did that!"

"Mr. Zhong?" the doctor asked, turning to Wei with a quirked eyebrow.

"It was a simple two finger test. The slave still needs a general examination. I cannot allow someone in less than perfect health to serve Saint Balan."

"I've told you before, that's not accurate," the doctor groused. "Especially in a case like this. Heavy activity is just as likely as not to tear the hymen. You said the kid was a pirate?"

Wei huffed. "It was a test of mettle just as much as virginity. Now hurry up and do your job. You lost the right to moralize the moment you agreed to take this position. Or did you forget who provides your paycheck?"

"No," the doctor sighed. "Alright, kid. Let's get this over with."

* * *

 "My sisters are coming in next, aren't they?"

The doctor stopped washing his hands. His back was to Hancock, and she could see the lines of tension in his shoulders. "Yes."

With trembling fingers, Hancock gingerly adjusted her shorts. Wei had departed, but not before shackling her to the examination table to ensure she didn't attempt to escape.

"Don't hurt them," Hancock said, her tone dangerously close to begging. "They're healthy. They're healthy in every way. They wouldn't have been allowed to sail otherwise."

The doctor's already slumped posture drooped even more. "That's not my choice, kid. Not if I want to get paid."

"But you're not a slave," Hancock said. "You don't have to do this."

"Mr. Zhong's the one making the decisions around here. I'm only doing my job," the doctor mumbled.

"But they haven't been…Wei never…" Hancock squeezed her eyes closed, trying to collect herself before her desperation made her say too much. She lifted her chin in what she hoped was a picture of regal confidence. "What…you just did…it's not necessary. My sisters are perfectly healthy."

There was a heavy silence before he said, "When I started working with the World Nobles I learned how to shut up and do as I'm told. If you're smart, you'll do the same."

Hancock's heart fell as Wei reentered with Sandersonia, panicked tears streaming down her face even as she struggled against his hold. Hancock longed to go to her sister, to offer her a word of comfort, but what could she say? Any reassurance at this point would be nothing by empty lies. Hancock tried to find the strength she'd displayed at the auction house, but it was gone. She wasn't even sure she could manage any haki at all.

Even if he had given his word, Hancock would not have trusted the doctor to help them, but he was their best hope amidst terrible situation. At no time of her assessment had he purposefully hurt her. He humiliated, shamed, and violated her very soul, but there had been remarkably little pain, especially compared to Wei's assault nearly two weeks previous.

But the doctor—just like every man Hancock had met so far—did not care. Hancock was drug kicking and screaming away from Sandersonia, risking everything in an attempt to save her sister when the one who could have helped stood and did nothing at all.


	4. The Zealot Part I

_"The Celestial Dragons are gods in human form, the divine rulers of this world and all its inhabitants. They are good, pure, and above reproach. It is the duty of every man, woman, and child who lives under the banner of the World Government to submit their lives to the holy Celestial Dragons, whether by serving in the military, paying their due taxes, or entering the service of a World Noble directly. You have the highest honor of serving Saint Balan, son of Saint Aza, grandson of Saint Crocell, great-grandson of…"_

Hancock stuffed her fingers in her ears to block out the recording that played over the den-den mushi. The noise reverberated off of the walls of the infirmary, echoing endlessly in their latest prison. The Boa sisters were trapped with no hope of reprieve until their backs were completely healed. Where they would go after that no one knew, but day by day Hancock could feel her strength returning. It wouldn't be long until they were put to use. 

Hancock rolled her a shoulder experimentally, keeping her eyes glued on the infirmary's one door. Through barred slits she could see guards make their rounds, dark shadows that passed twice for each loop of the recording. She had to grudgingly admire their precision. Like clockwork, twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week, without any fissure of imperfection that she might exploit...

"You're not thinking about running away again, are you?" Marigold asked quietly, drawing Hancock from her thoughts.

"There's no rule against watching," Hancock said, her voice barely audible. Since the last, disastrous doctor's visit she had been careful to remain on her best behavior, and the last thing she wanted was for Wei to discover her intentions.

"Hancock, you can't!" Sandersonia said. "They'll kill us."

The words cut deeper than any sword. Before she could think, Hancock turned from her vigil and struck her sister across the face. The sound of the slap was drowned out by the hated recording, which had been running non-stop for days, keeping her awake for hours on end and infiltrating the dreams of what little sleep she did get. "So what if they do?" Hancock said, drawing herself up to her full height while her sister stood frozen in shock. "We...we are _Kuja_. Do you remember our history? Or have you already forgotten who you are?!"

Sandersonia whimpered, fingers brought up to the scarlet hand print on her cheek. She was cowering, Hancock realized, admitting defeat before they had even had a chance to fight back. Rage bloomed within her, and Hancock took her sister by the shoulders. 

"We can't give up yet." The command sounded strangely like a plea, and Hancock squeezed her eyes shut while she shook her sister. "We can't let them win."

Hand with fingers like iron grabbed Hancock by the shoulder and spun her around. For a split second she thought that the men had returned and raised her fist to strike again, hesitating when she saw that it was only Marigold. Her taller sister forced her to break her grip on Sonia. "Stop it!" Mari cried. "Can't you see you're hurting her?"

Hancock opened her mouth to argue when she heard another piteous sniff come from the direction of Sandersonia. Her sister was sitting on the floor with her back to one of the narrow cots, her arms covering her head. She wept, silently and bitterly, her arms muffling the sound.

Men hadn't done this, Hancock realized with a start,  _she_ had. She had made her sister cry. 

" _Sonia_ ," Hancock groaned wretchedly. "Sonia, I'm so sorry." She kneeled next to her sister, and almost cried when Sonia flinched away from her touch. 

"We must be united," Mari said quietly. She stood completely still, with her hands balled into fists. "We must stay strong."

"They want to divide us," Hancock agreed. "We can't let them. I am sorry, Sonia."

Sonia wiped her eyes with the heel of her hand and shook her head vigorously. "I-it's okay. _I'm_ okay." 

"No, you're not," Hancock said. "None of us are." She looked from Sonia to Mari, wanting desperately for them to understand. They could not be subjected to the rule of Men. Hancock refused to let it happen, and had not given up hope on their escape. Their first plans had failed because of Hancock's lack of foresight - a mistake she would not make again. She had spent every waking moment since arriving to this hell taking in as much information as she could, building up her strength, thinking through a plan of attack. 

And maybe she had not confided with her sisters as much as she should have, but something had changed within her. Exactly what, Hancock couldn't say. Maybe it was the fact she knew that Wei could torture her at the push of a button, or perhaps the shift had occurred after her humiliation at the auction house. More likely, the continuing stress of slavery was slowly driving her insane.

Whatever the reason, Hancock did not feel like she was the same person she was before being captured. She found that it was hard to engage emotionally with Marigold and Sandersonia. She loved them with all her heart and would do anything for them, but she could no longer offer them hope when she wasn't sure any existed. Mariejois had stolen that from her.

And through it all the damn recording would. Not. _Stop_.

 _"…submit their lives to the holy Celestial Dragons, whether by serving in the military, paying their due taxes, or entering the service of a World Noble directly. You have the highest honor of serving Saint Balan…_ "

"And what do you know about honor!" Hancock yelled to nobody in particular. Mari and Sonia flinched as Hancock stormed to the den-den mushi and ripped it off of the wall. She threw it to the ground, and with blood pulsing in her ears slammed her heel against the animal, smashing the speaker into pieces. Slivers of shell and metal sliced into her foot, but she didn't care. Anything for a moment of blessed silence.

"Hancock…" Sonia breathed. She and Mari stared at their sister with wide, frightened eyes.

"What?" Hancock snapped. "It's true. These men don't know anything about honor, and I'm sick of hearing their lies!"

They continued to stare, until Hancock realized they were looking beyond her. Slowly she turned to see Wei standing in the doorway of the infirmary. Cold displeasure was carved on his face, and Hancock knew he'd seen everything.

"Go ahead, shock me," Hancock spat. "I don't care."

"I did hope to avoid this," Wei said. "You were doing so well. I thought we could avoid remedial lessons."

Hancock's fraying temper snapped. With a wordless roar she lunged at Wei with every intention of killing him. She made it half a step before he pulled a remote out of his sleeve and pressed the button that activated her collar.

"Hancock!" Her sisters rushed forward, whether to assist her or attack Wei, Hancock would never know. The instant they moved they, too, collapsed to the floor.

This time Hancock was unable to stay conscious. She woke with her whole body aching and Wei standing over her. There were half a dozen other men in the infirmary with them. Hancock struggled to sit up, only for one of them to kick her back down.

"You're lucky you're pretty," Wei said frigidly. He turned to one of the men, an ugly brute with a squashed face that looked like it had been smashed repeatedly into a wall. "You have six months to break them. Do not disappoint me."

* * *

 

_"The Celestial Dragons are gods in human form, the divine rulers of this world and all its inhabitants…_

The Boa sisters were taken out of the infirmary in the dark of night, away from her owner's mansion and into a small building then men called the House of Correction. The cadre of men under Wei were all big and ugly, so it made sense that they would be led by the biggest and ugliest of them all. 'The Man With the Smashed Face' was too long a moniker, and Hancock refused to dignify him by thinking of him by his given name.

His bushy eyebrows and thick jowls reminded her of a bulldog, and he answered to Wei's every beck and call like a common cur. The only time Hancock called him Dog Face directly he locked her in a metal box adjacent to the building's furnace for two days. 

It was her first punishment, but it would not be the last

             . _..They are good, pure, and above reproach..._

The men took to their task with vigor. The bulk of their energy was spent trying to tame Hancock's wild spirit, but her sisters did not escape their attention. It seemed that the Celestial Dragons had a very narrow view of what it meant to be a proper woman, and the Boa sisters did not fit into their mold. They would learn respect, and pain was their teacher.

Wei forbid them from leaving any permanent mark, so their captors became...creative.

Hancock never realized how much fifty lashes to the feet could hurt, and from then on did her best not to speak out of turn.

                                     ... _It is the duty of every man, woman, and child who lives under the banner of the World Government to submit their lives to the holy Celestial Dragons..._

If nothing else, Hancock had to admire their ingenuity. It seemed like slaves and soldiers were trained in much the same way, and she found the regimen she and her sisters were subjected to eerily similar to the trails she had to complete before being allowed to become a pirate. Every facet of their life was controlled while they were exhausted both physically and mentally, all in an attempt to break down their defenses. The difference was, on Amazon Lily, regardless of if the warrior had proved herself worthy of extra honors or not, careful care was taken to rebuild her into something stronger than she was before.

These men had no intention of building them back up. They implemented a hundred different rules with the intention of taking away even the illusion of personal choice, and punished the sisters harshly when they failed to maintain the impossibly high standard. Hancock bit her tongue and did as she was told, but the morning Sandersonia was punished with an ice bath for the crime of slouching during breakfast her temper snapped. 

Later she joked that one of the vile men must have been brushing up on their water-based tortures, but her attempts at keeping up her sister's morale fell flat. The hours spent strapped to a board with a cloth over her head while Dog Face poured water over her would haunt Hancock for the rest of her life.                                                                                                                                                     

                                                                     ... _whether by serving in the military, paying their due taxes, or entering the service of a World Noble directly..._

Hancock didn't know how much time had passed since she and her sisters had been sent for remediation training, but Wei's six month deadline had to be hear. She had suffered pain and humiliation in a hundred different forms, but so far had managed to maintain a modicum of her pride. She could tell that the men were not happy with her progress, and was angry but unsurprised when they instigated a new rule that forbade the Boa sisters from making eye contact with any free man. It was a rule Hancock broke daily without consciously meaning to do so, and as a result she found herself spending long stretches of time in solitary confinement. 

 _"You have the highest honor of serving Saint Balan, son of Saint Aza, grandson of Saint Crocell, great-grandson of..."_ Hancock recited, mimicking the dreaded recording perfectly as she stared bleary-eyed at the ceiling of her cell. Curling herself into a ball, she tried to find a comfortable spot on the uneven stone floor. She was cold, and there was nothing in the tiny cell to take her attention away from the never-ending propaganda.

Unable to get settled, Hancock got to her feet. There wasn't even enough room to pace, so she began working through a series of stretches, trying to work off her restless energy with exercise. Any affect this had on keeping at bay the mania that threatened to overtake her was temporary. It was blasphemous to think, but she wished that the men would hurry up and return. 

Doing her best not to think about what Wei would do once he found out she remained unbroken, Hancock worked through her routine with a single-minded focus. The disciplinarians didn't seem to care what Hancock did in her confinement, and it wasn't long before stretches transitioned into katas. She reminded herself of the lessons she'd been taught on Amazon Lily, trying to drown out the noise with the truths she'd learned since childhood.

_Strength is beauty_

_Beauty is developed, honed, and perfected through hard work and perseverance_

_Anyone can be beautiful_

And the most important point of all, one that was implied more than said aloud, a lesson Hancock had learned all too well since being captured:

_Men are monsters and not to be trusted_

Hancock worked herself to exhaustion, trying to drive away her own weakness and banish the treacherous thoughts that were beginning to flirt along the outside of her consciousness. Finally she was forced to stop, and after a final kick to her imaginary opponent's face leaned against the wall of her cell.

How much time had passed? An hour? Maybe two? Whatever long, it was a mere blip compared to the empty days and hours of isolation.

Sighing unhappily, Hancock laid down and forced herself to take several deep, settling breaths. Almost subconsciously she began to pick up the presence of the men guarding her cell with her haki. There was no one else. Aside from the snails monitoring her cell, Hancock was well and truly alone.

It took a long time before she could drift asleep, but she did, Hancock dreamed of home.

_'Why is it important to be strong?'_

_The warrior overseeing the day's archery lessons lowered her bow and an unnatural hush fell over the clearing. One of the half-dozen girls whispered to another, 'Oooh, Hancock's gonna be in trou-ble!'_

_Hancock shot the other girl a glare before looking unflinchingly up at the warrior. She was being completely serious. Every day she was told the importance of strength—how the beauty of the Kuja was found in the power of its women. But no one ever said why. How was she supposed to understand something if no one ever explained it to her?_

_'You're Hancock, right?' the warrior asked._

_'Yes,'_

_The warrior sighed. 'Lavender warned me about you. Alright, weapons away. Come gather around.'_

_There_ were _some grumbles, and more than one girl shot Hancock a dirty look for having the audacity of interrupting the lesson. She made a face back. She'd already mastered the bow; it wasn't her fault they weren't at her level._

_The children formed a semi-circle around the warrior. She pulled out a cigarette she had tucked behind one ear and lit it as she gave each of them a long, hard look. Her gaze settled on Hancock last of all, and lingered there as she spoke._

_'The answer lies in our history. Amazon Lily was founded a little over six hundred years ago after—as I'm sure you all have been taught in school—our first empress, Zinnia, was accused of murder. What you probably don't know is that she was guilty of the crime, and the man she killed was one of the Celestial Dragons.'_

_There was a quiet gasp from the crowd, and the warrior waited for the noise to die down before continuing. 'It was justified self-defense. The man saw the empress's beauty and wanted it for himself. When she refused to come willingly, he ordered her to be captured as his slave. Empress Zinnia killed the Noble and his men before fleeing out to sea. She was forced to become a pirate to survive, and over time gathered a crew of women who were dissatisfied with their lot in life and strong enough to do something about it. They became infamous throughout the world, and soon the whole navy was after them.'_

_The warrior smoked the last of her cigarette and snuffed with the heel of her foot. The lines in her face deepened._

_'The Kuja Pirates could not stand against such a force. With the help of the empress's special haki they found sanctuary in the Calm Belt, eventually settling on this very island. It was Zinnia who first tamed the sea snakes that allow us to travel unmolested, and Zinnia who led the campaigns into the Grand Line when no other nation dared go defy the World Government by trading with us. It was the empress's strength that protected the fledgling country, and when it came time to choose a successor she honored the most worthy of her followers with the title over her own flesh and blood, a tradition that continues to this day._

_'We must be strong, because if the World Government had its way they would wipe our country off of the map. The Calm Belt protects us for now, but mark my words, there will come the day when even the greatest of sea kings will be unable to save us. We must be ready, for we stand alone against a world ruled by men. So train hard, listen to your elders, and obey the empress. It is her strength that we depend on most of all, and she is worthy of our respect.'_

Hancock woke with a smile on her face. She remembered that day from her childhood as if it were yesterday. She had been bewitched by the warrior's story, and in these dark times gave her comfort. For as long as she could remember she had dreamed of going out to sea as a pirate, but that lesson of her country's past had stirred something within her. For the first time in her life she had heard of true greatness and was inspired by it.

Hancock would not settle for being strong, she would be the strongest. She would not be beautiful, but the most beautiful woman the world had ever seen. She would train, and fight, and prove herself worthy of Zinnia's legacy.

Someday Hancock was going to be the Empress of Amazon Lily, and she couldn't do that by rotting here. No matter what horrors she encountered, Hancock would. Not.  _Break._

Suddenly there was the scrapping of metal against metal as the bars of her prison were lifted. Hancock shielded her eyes from the light as a man opened the door. She scrambled to her feet as he entered, settled into the demur, submissive posture that had been beaten into her, but not before risking a quick glance to see who was retrieving her this time.

Dog Face stared at her, tapping a riding crop lightly against one thigh. "Your time of penance is complete. Recant of your wrongdoing, and you will be allowed to continue your training."

"I…" Hancock moistened her suddenly dry lips. She knew this was coming, but that didn't make it any easier. Not even the thought of rejoining Sandersonia and Marigold helped. Hancock knew she hadn't done anything wrong.

"Answer me, slave," Dog Face said, a note of warning in his voice. "What did you do?"

"Disobey," Hancock mumbled.

"What was that? I can't hear you."

"I…I disobeyed," Hancock said. She clenched her hands together hard enough she could feel her nails digging into her palms. "I presumed to act as an equal with a free man by looking at him directly and then speaking out of turn. I did not respond to immediate correction. I brought disorder to my surroundings, and by doing so shamed my rightful master. I deserved my punishment, and in the absence of the holy and magnanimous Saint Balan look to you for mercy and forgiveness."

"Well said," Dog Face replied, as if he wasn't the one who taught her the words she was expected to recite. "You bring this suffering upon yourself, slave. Your happiness can only be found in perfect obedience, yet you continue to resist. You should be honored to serve such a great man as Saint Balan."

There was that word again. _Honor_. Hancock wanted to argue that he was wrong, so terribly wrong, but she was tired. Tired of fighting, tired of losing, and tired of listening to the bile of their words.

Yet she kept fighting, kept losing, and was still forced to listen just as much. Maybe Dog Face was right; maybe her continuing resistance only succeeded in making her enslavement more unbearably miserable.

Hancock allowed herself to be led back to her sisters, making sure to keep her gaze settled firmly on the ground.


	5. The Zealot Part II

 

 

The Boa sisters were given little warning that their six month trial had come to an end. The days blurred together in the windowless hell that was the House of Correction, and it was impossible to tell how much time had passed. Hancock learned it was in her and her sister's best interests not to fight back - for now, anyway. She felt like washing her mouth out with lye every time she said the words that the barbaric men demanded she say, but Hancock could justify her treason with the knowledge that she was biding her time.

And sure enough, their suffering was coming to an end at last. Dog Face had made a rare appearance during the sister's meager breakfast with a clipped command to get changed as soon as they were finished. The consequences of keeping him waiting were left unsaid, but Hancock knew well enough the punishment for tardiness. The sisters left their bowls unfinished and they hurried back to their shared quarters. 

"Do you know what we're doing?" Hancock whispered to Sonia. She slipped into the simple white dress that had been set out for her as quickly as she could, rankling that she wasn't even allowed to pick out her own clothes to wear.

"No," Sonia replied as she brushed Marigold's hair. "Do you?"

"They've been acting strange lately," Mari said. "You're not planning something, are you Hancock?"

"What do you mean?" Hancock said, chagrined at the accusation. "I've been on my best behavior."

Marigold fell silent, and Hancock felt some of her bravado leave her. What she said was true enough. It had been nearly a week since she'd broken any of the important rules. Even her sisters couldn't follow every one of the stupid commands they were supposed to obey without question.

"Something's bothering you. What is it, Marigold?" Hancock asked quietly. She was painfully aware of the den-den mushi watching them from the corner of their small room, knowing they had no privacy even here. There was no chance of Marigold being candid with her. Not here, and not now.

Sandersonia stopped her ministrations as her younger sister pulled away. "It's just…you're the one they watch most. You're the one they care about."

"That's ridiculous."

"Mari's right," Sonia said. "Wei only bought us after he saw your ability. Everyone knows you're special."

Hancock's protest was cut off as Dog Face entered the room. After making sure the three girls were presentable, he ushered them down the hallway, giving last minute instruction as he walked. Hancock scarcely listened as he blabbered on about their designated place and how their behavior reflected upon Saint Balan and that they would be carefully watched and so on and so forth, until the point Hancock wished she were back in bed so she could smother him with a pillow. It was impossible for her to guess what Marigold and Sandersonia were thinking behind their mask of servile obedience, and Hancock's mind drifted back to their troubling observation.

It was true that the disciplinarians spent a disproportionate amount of time coaching her compared to her sisters, but Hancock had always assumed that was because she broke the rules a disproportionate amount of the time. She had never considered why Wei purchased them specifically after seeing Hancock's display of Conqueror's Haki.

It didn't make any sense unless he had some sort of ulterior motive. Looking back at that fateful meeting at the auction house, Hancock got the impression that Wei understood what her ability represented. He had to know how difficult it would be to break the spirit of someone who had such ambition.

There wasn't enough time to ponder the question of their purchase. The Boa sisters were led across the well-manicured lawns of Saint Balan's estate and into a large mansion that was only slightly smaller than the palace on Amazon Lily. The effect was disorientating. For the first time in nearly six months Hancock was surrounded by people. Some wore the simple clothing and collars that marked them as slaves, others in the suits that set them apart as free men. Hancock even saw a glass bubble bobbing along in the distance as a Dragon went about his business.

The building itself was, in a word, opulent. The floors were made of marble and inlayed with lapis lazuli, malachite, mother-of-pearl, and other precious and semiprecious stones Hancock didn't recognize. The designs shimmered in the soft light of fixtures made of gold and silver that adorned the walls, and the fragrance of burnt sandalwood hung heavily in the air. Hancock soon found herself standing in a grand entrance way, where large marble columns reached up to a faulted ceilings with paintings of a heavenly realm. A heavy chandelier of gold and crystal hung in the middle, almost like a sun shining its blessing down on the Celestial Dragons.

The effect was overwhelming. When they first arrived to Mariejois, Hancock and her sisters were ushered directly to their branding and after that the infirmary and punishment houses. She had never seen this part of Saint Balan's manor before. For some reason she had always pictured the Celestial Dragons enacting their crimes against humanity in secret, where they would be neither seen nor challenged. She was startled to see just how wrong she was.

Dog Face led them up a flight of stairs to a less populated wing of the mansion. Three men were waiting for them, and Dog Face shoved Mari and Sonia forward. "You take these two to the barracks. I'll be with this one in case she misbehaves." His hand made a nearly unperceivable movement to his pocket where Hancock knew the remote that controlled her collar was hidden. "Meet me back here in half an hour."

"Wait, where are you taking them?" Hancock asked anxiously.

He boxed her ears hard enough to make her stumble. "It is a slave's duty to obey, not to question. Were no you not listening to what I just told you?"

The honest answer was no, she wasn't, but Hancock knew better than to answer. She watched helplessly as her sisters were taken away from her. To the outside observer they were the picture of what a slave should be: submissive, quiet, earnestly heeding every command. But Hancock knew better. She could feel their buried anger, the constant terror of failure, their utter hatred of the men responsible for their captivity.

There were times Hancock wished she could hide her true feelings like they did. They were like reeds; when the storm came rolling in they were able to bend and adapt while staying strong at the root. She was a tree, one who would either withstand the difficulties that she faced or end up broken by them. There was no middle ground.

"This way. Master Wei has decided you're ready to meet Xaviera."

Hancock was led to a sitting room. One of the walls was made entirely of glass, giving an aerial view of the grounds of Saint Balan's estate. It had been nearly six months since Hancock spent any substantial time outdoors, and she felt herself drawn to the sunlight. It took a considerable amount of will not to throw herself at the glass and hope for the best.

"Is this her?"

Hancock tore her gaze from the view, noticing for the first time that one of the plush couches was already occupied, and by a woman. She had a striking appearance, and despite the collar around her neck managed to drape herself artfully across the furniture as if she owned it. Hancock guessed she was approaching middle age, but she maintained a trim, fit figure usually seen on a much younger woman. Instead of the simple, undyed clothing most slaves wore, she was dressed in a dark blue yukata that matched the color of her hair and brought attention to her curves. She even wore makeup.

"This is Boa Hancock. Master Wei has already decided that she will serve in the White Room once her time in the House of Correction is complete. She is to be your understudy," Dog Face said.

"Of course," the woman murmured as she assessed Hancock through hooded eyes. The young Kuja was put instantly on guard. That was the gaze of someone sizing up their enemy. The woman noticed her discomfort, and her lips gave the tiniest of twitches, like she was suppressing a smirk.

"Slave, this is Xaviera. You will be rooming with her starting next week."

"What about my sisters?" Hancock asked, struggling to keep her tone even and controlled even as her heart started to pound in her chest.

"What about them?" Dog Face retorted.

_They're all I have left_ , Hancock wanted to shout.  _They need me. I'd rather die than be separated from them._

But it was as if she'd lost her voice, and Hancock couldn't say anything at all.

Xaviera watched the exchange with keen interest, and when Hancock fell silent she said, "I've been a thoughtless host. Please, sit." She clapped her hands, and a slave appeared with a tea pot. He sat it on a table already laden with cups and dainty pastries before disappearing again. With careful movements that hinted at a greater ceremony that was lost on Hancock, Xaviera gracefully prepared tea using powdered green leaves.

Still numb by the revelation that she might be taken from her sisters, Hancock aped Dog Face's movements and took a delicate sip. It was vastly different than the strong black tea favored on Amazon Lily, which would have been enough for her to hate it on principal even if she did care for the taste.

"So, Hancock, tell me about yourself," Xaviera interjected smoothly as Hancock made a face into her cup.

"What does it matter?" Hancock said bitterly. "All I'm supposed to do is sit down and do as I'm told."

Dog Face slammed his cup on the table. "Slave!"

"What?" Hancock cried, springing to her feet "It's true, isn't it? None of this actually  _matters!_  These niceties don't  _exist_!" She grabbed at the metal collar around her neck. "Not as long as I have  _this_ choking the life out of me!"

Hancock knew her outburst was punishable by death, but she'd spent six excruciating months trying to survive this hell, and they were going to take Marigold and Sandersonia away from her anyway. Why? Because she was _special?_ Because Wei wanted to use her for his own purposes?

Hancock wasn't about to let herself be used by anyone, least of all an overgrown puff ball who hired others to fight his battles for him.

Dog Face pulled the remote out of his pocket, and before she consciously knew that she'd made her decision, Hancock took the single largest risk of her life. She knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that Dog Face could disable her with a push of a button. What she didn't know was whether or not he had a backup remote. Either way,  by sitting so close next to her Hancock realized Dog Face had finally made a mistake she could capitalize on. For the first time since the auction house she could fight back.

Hancock's kick caught him by surprise and Dog Face blocked instinctively. But she wasn't aiming for his head or his torso, as he thought, and with haki coating her leg black it didn't matter that she didn't have enough space to full extend into the blow. Hancock's foot connected with Dog Face's hand, slamming it against his body and destroying his only means of controlling her.

Hancock didn't wait for him to recover. She grabbed the teapot by the handle and threw the scalding-hot water at his head. Dog Face ducked, and with surprising agility jumped backwards, putting a healthy distance between them while blocking the exit.

Xaviera was much less graceful as she scrambled over the couch, the color leaving her already pale cheeks. Dog Face, never taking his eyes off Hancock, said, "Alert the others that we've got a Code Red. Whatever happens, make sure the slaves touring the lower barracks don't find out about this, or we'll be dealing with three renegade pirates instead of one."

"Y-yes, sir," she stammered.

"And tell Master Wei we'll be making use of Mara's gift after all."

"Yes, sir."

Xaviera rushed from the room, and without further warning Dog Face lunged. Hancock sidestepped his punch and countered with a strike of her own. He danced out of the way, again putting himself between Hancock and the door.

They exchanged a flurry of blows, and a pattern emerged. Hancock was quick and her technique was sure, but Dog Face was surprisingly agile for his stocky frame and had the longer reach. His technique was sloppy, but very time she tried to exploit a weakness in his form he would back away, more intent on keeping Hancock contained than winning the fight.

He was stalling for time, and they both knew it. It would have been easy for Hancock to break through the enormous glass window and take her chances at escape that way, but she couldn't leave without her sisters. Somehow she had to win this, and soon, before backup arrived and she was forced to test the strength of her Armament against guns and swords.

Switching strategies, Hancock pushed the offensive. She struck out time and again with surgical precision, and it was all Dog Face could do to block. He staggered, and for a moment his guard dropped. Fueled by unyielding determination and fury, Hancock put all her strength into one haki-infused strike. Her fist flew with nearly inhuman speed, aiming for his throat with a blow strong enough to crush his windpipe.

Hancock barely had time to register Dog Face's smile before he caught her fist with his own. Using her own momentum against her, he flipped her onto her back. Hancock smashed into the tea table, causing cups and plates to fly as wood splintered under the force of the impact. A shadow flittered across the edge of Hancock's vision, and instinctively she rolled away, just barely dodging Dog Face's axe-kick.

Suddenly it was Hancock who was on the defensive. All the flaws in Dog Face's form disappeared. He'd lured her into the simplest of traps, and she'd fallen for it hook, line, and sinker. The force of his blows was overwhelming, comparable to even the Kuja warriors Hancock tried to emulate. Never had she imagined a man could be this strong.

She was running out of time. Hancock used the last of her will into a haki-enhanced kick. Dog Face moved into a picture-perfect block, but Hancock knew from experience that the only thing capable of blocking haki was haki. As much as she wanted to, she didn't have to kill him. The smallest of stumbles would give her enough of an opening to flee. Hancock's entire focus was on this one goal, the strength of her desire fueling this one last, desperate attempt to escape. Her form was perfect, and as Hancock's foot hit connected with the thick muscle of Dog Face's forearm she was sure she had never kicked anyone as hard before in her life. 

Except his arm was just as black as her leg. In her shock Hancock couldn't dodge his counter. Dog Face's knuckles smashed into Hancock's jaw, snapping her head backwards.

"I've been serving Saint Balan for nearly thirty years. Do you think this is my first time disciplining pirates?" he asked as he grabbed a fistful of her hair and drove her face into the ground. Blood spurted from Hancock's nose, and she couldn't protect herself as he slammed her face into the unyielding marble floor twice more.

"Did you think this was my first time dealing with someone who knows haki?"

Barely clinging to consciousness, Hancock managed to tear herself away. Blindly she clawed at his face, her nails digging into the skin on his cheek. He swore and tried to throw her across the room, but she clung to the front of his shirt. Buttons popped open, and Hancock could hear the material rip. She didn't let go until his fist connected to her solar plexus. The pain almost made her throw up and she fell to the ground gasping for air. The heel of his foot slammed between her shoulder blades and he ground the heel of his boot painfully into the tender flesh each time she struggled, preventing her for rising again.

The fight was over, and Hancock had lost.

"You stupid,  _wicked_  girl," Dog Face said, gingerly touching the shallow gash on his cheek. "I keep telling you over, and over, and over again, but you just won't listen. Your fate, your destiny…it is unchangeable. Your future was set the moment Saint Balan's brand touched your back, and no matter how hard you fight, no matter how much you squirm you  _will_ obey."

There was the thudding of boots running up the hall, and four men entered the lounge. They surrounded Hancock with their weapons drawn. Dog Face reached down and lifted her effortlessly by the armpit. A wave of nausea washed over her at the sudden movement and she was only half conscious as he drug her back the way they came. She blearily recognized the walls of the House of Correction, but to her surprise they bypassed the rooms of torture that she had become intimately familiar with over the last six months, instead leading her to a door that she had somehow never noticed before.

It led to a poorly lit basement room that smelt of death. The only furniture Hancock could see was a series of straight back chairs with belts to restrain the ankles, wrists, waist, and head. She was thrown into the nearest one and strapped down tightly. Blood continued to stream out of her nose, and without help she wasn't sure she could have sat upright. The adrenaline of the fight was gone, fear taking its place. No matter how hard she struggled, she was tied fast and totally helpless against whatever barbaric punishment they were about to administer.

Once the men were certain she was secure, Dog Face came directly in front of her. Hancock had barely managed to harm him at all. In fact, his shirt looked like it had taken more damage than he did. Half its buttons were missing, and a large tear rendered the garment almost useless. Dog Face seemed to realize this, because once he was sure he had gotten Hancock's attention he decided to take it all the way off. In doing so he exposed more than his bare chest. Hancock's eyes bulged as a familiar brand stood out starkly against his skin. The Hoof of the Soaring Dragon, the same mark that mutilated her back, was carved directly over his heart.

Dog Face was a slave.

"Do you realize now?" he asked. "Do you see the fulfillment your life could have, if only you would stop this senseless struggle?"

"B-but your collar," Hancock said, nearly choking on her own disbelief.

"I serve willingly. Saint Balan is a god trapped in a human body. It is divine right to own me and anyone else that he chooses. Civilization as we know it only exists because of his forefathers, and we pay back our debt of gratitude through our unquestioning service. It is my purpose for living."

Dog Face turned as a second man whispered something in his ear, and Hancock was struck dumb a second time. Spread from shoulder to shoulder was the tattered remains of what at one point in time must have been a magnificent tattoo. Hancock could just barely make out the skull and crossbones, although the image was too distorted by scar tissue for her to try and guess what pirate crew he had once been a part of.

"The signs of my disobedience and my shame," Dog Face said. "But I learned, and so will you. Someone raise a vein."

Rough hands tightened the belt around Hancock's bicep, and Dog Face raised a syringe to the light before tapping on the barrel to get rid of any air bubbles.

"It's amazing how far technology has come," he said. "In my day, slaves like you were culled. Only the finest specimens are worthy of the Celestial Dragon's attention, and they have no interest in sleeping with a maimed slave. Luckily for you, Master Wei is of the opinion your beauty is worth the cost."

He brought the tip of the needle to the vein bulging at the inside of Hancock's elbow. She tried to jerk her arm away as it pierced through her skin, but it was no use. Dog Face chuckled darkly.

"I knew from the beginning that you would be my greatest challenge yet, and I couldn't believe that you would break so easily. I had to be sure you were fit for service, and was lucky to find someone willing to share the secret of how they kept their slaves in line."

The drug was injected directly into Hancock's bloodstream, and immediately she knew something was terribly wrong. She could feel it creep up her arm and to her heart, and in less than a minute it had spread throughout her entire body. If being shocked felt like fire, this was like molten lava in her veins. Pure, undiluted pain traveled from the top of her head to the bottom of her feet, and there was nothing she could do to stop it.

There were no words to describe the agony. Her muscles contracted in response to the stimulus and it felt like her body was trying to tear itself apart,. Simply drawing breath was hell, as the simple movement of inhaling caused torturous paroxysms that racked her whole body.  An inhuman scream pierced the air and didn't stop. It wasn't until she was forced to take another excruciating breath that Hancock realized the sound was coming from her.

Coherent thought was lost. There was nothing beyond the anguish. Hancock had walked down the path of a warrior since almost before she would speak. She knew pain. For the past six months she had experienced firsthand a myriad of tortures designed to break her. But this…this torment was unbearable. The bleeding from her nose worsened as the strain burst the small vessels in her nose, but otherwise there was no outside indication to the ravages endured by her nervous system. How was she supposed to fight against a phantom enemy that existed only in her mind? How was she supposed to be strong here, strapped down and alone in this place of horrors? What honor was in begging for it to end, only to realize that it was impossible to speak?

For the first time in her life Hancock wished that she could die. It was an eternity before the agony started to fade away, and another eternity before she felt like she was in control of her own body again. Sweat poured from her, and the sharp tang of urine filled the air. Hancock barely noticed as she hung limply from her bindings. There would be time for shame later; right now it took all her energy to just  _exist_.

"Look at me, slave."

Hancock tried to do as Dog Face said, truly she did, but she just didn't have the strength. Someone threw a cold bucket of water over her head, shocking her system into opening her eyes. It took a moment for the world to come back into focus, and slowly she recognized that Dog Face was still standing in front of her.

"Did you like that, slave?"

Hancock mumbled something unintelligible, and that seemed to satisfy him. He gave a nod to one of the other men, and they undid the tie that fastened her head.

"Look around you, slave. What do you see?"

Confused by this command, Hancock mustered the strength to look to her right. A small part of her died when she saw Marigold tied into a chair beside her, and tears filled her eyes when she saw that Sandersonia was on her other side.

"No," she whispered.

"Nothing seems to get through to you, but over the last six months I came to understand the one thing that will make you listen. Raise their veins."

"No!" Hancock cried desperately. "T-they didn't do anything! I did it! I tried to escape! Please, don't! I-I'll take their punishment. I'll do anything! Please, just don't hurt them!"

Dog Face grabbed Hancock roughly by the chin and forced her to look at him. His heavy brows were drawn together and hatred was etched into every crevice of his face. "And tell me, slave, why should I reward you now?  _You_  are the one who failed.  _You_ are the one who disobeyed.  _You_  brought this upon yourself. I was given a command to break you, and by the gods above you  _will_ break."

He shoved her head back and gave the order. First Marigold and then Sandersonia was given the pain stimulant. Their agonized screams filled the dungeon, and Hancock begged for them to stop. She would have done anything to take their pain away. She cajoled, bargained, and pleaded with Dog Face, but he was unmovable. In his eyes, the matter was settled. Hancock had disobeyed, and she needed to be punished. It just happened that the best way to punish her was through her sisters. Eventually he threatened them with a second dose if she didn't shut up, and Hancock broke into uncontrollable sobs.

Dog Face was a slave. He himself wore the marks of disobedience on his back. He  _knew_ how to best hurt Hancock, because he had once been in her position.

He was also utterly loyal to the Celestial Dragons and would do everything in his power to fulfill their every command, even if that meant torturing young girls who had done no wrong to achieve the results he desired.

Hancock learned many things about the nature of man during her time on Mariejois, but that was one thing she would never understand.


	6. The Player Part I

For the first time in her life, Hancock knew what ugliness felt like. It wasn't found in the tape protecting her broken nose from displacement or in the bruising that pooled under each eye. It wasn't in the rope burns encircling each wrist or the crack ribs that sent shooting pains through her chest with each breath. Those could be considered badges of honor, visible signs of her struggle to escape her imprisonment.

No, the ugliness was in the small red streak on the inside of her bicep, where the caustic drug used to torture her damaged the vein enough to leave a lasting mark. It was the sign of her failure, both as a Kuja warrior and an older sister. It was just as well Dog Face had separated her from Marigold and Sandersonia immediately following their punishment, adding salt to the wound of Hancock's failed escape attempt. They were safer apart, where Hancock couldn't hurt them with her actions.

Hancock had made the twin mistakes of overestimating herself and underestimating her enemies. Having the Queen's Disposition meant nothing if she didn't know how to use it. Her haki was useless when her master owned slaves strong enough to withstand it. The battle she was fighting was unwinnable. It had taken Hancock too long to realize that, and her sisters suffered for her foolishness. It was well within their rights never to forgive her. Hancock would never forgive herself.

"She's grown," Wei noted. His six month deadline had come at last, and just like when he saw her at the auction house, he felt the need to asses her from head to toe. "An inch at least."

Hancock shuddered as he ran his fingers over her scalp. He tutted disapprovingly. "However, hair and skin have lost their luster. What have you been feeding her?"

"I apologize, but there were stretches where we had to put her on a bread and water diet," Dog Face said. "She was the hardest case I've ever dealt with. It was difficult to work within your parameters."

"Excuses! You nearly disfigured her anyway. You're lucky the doctor was able to set her nose straight, or your remains would be fertilizing my garden."

Dog Face bowed. "Forgive me. I did not mean to presume you were unjust in your rule, only that the slave was unusually stubborn."

"Not anymore," Wei murmured to himself as he tilted her chin up. Their eyes locked, Wei's gaze twinkling with glee at Dog Face's success. Before Hancock would have glared right back, but now she only turned her head away. "You are dismissed. I will escort her to the White Room."

Bowing again, Dog Face left. Addressing Hancock directly for the first time, Wei said, "I expect great things from you. Do not disappoint me."

"Yes, sir," Hancock whispered. She wasn't sure Wei heard as he snapped his fingers. Two slaves hurried into the room, carrying an ornate chair held up by two long poles. He settled into the seat, and with another gesture the slaves were struggling to stand.

They left the House of Correction for the final time, and Hancock wished bitterly that Dog Face had mutilated her permanently. Then perhaps Wei's baffling interest in her would stop, and she would be treated like a normal slave.

Hancock faltered at the thought, a heavy pit forming in her stomach. Since when had she  _wanted_  to be treated like a normal slave? The very idea went against everything she believed in, but her thoughts had taken a dark turn since being separated from Mari and Sonia. Stripped of both her dignity and the comfort of her sisters Hancock saw little point in living, and if Men insisted that she keep living then she wanted to do so as anonymously as possible. There was no glory to be found under Wei's all-seeing eyes.

Had she finally cracked? Had she finally taken the first step down the path that would only end when she transformed into a mindless husk with no agency of her own? Was she destined to become like Dog Face, someone who truly believed that the Celestial Dragons were right, just, and good?

The very idea nearly made Hancock sick.

"Keep up," Wei commanded, oblivious to the existential crisis raging through his young charge.

Lengthening her strides, Hancock allowed herself to be led to the second story of Saint Balan's manor. They cut through the lounge where she had taken tea, and Hancock couldn't help but look longingly through the enormous window to the grounds below. The moment passed quickly, and from there they entered a wing guarded by two men with swords strapped to their hips. At the sight of Wei they bowed deeply and opened the heavy wooden doors carved with an intricate flower design. Hancock could feel their eyes on her as they passed the threshold. She curled her shoulders self-consciously.

The wing appeared to be housing for slaves. Every person Hancock passed wore a metal collar identical to her own, and after a moment realized that each and every one of them was a woman. Like the guards, they bowed respectively at Wei before turning their attention to Hancock. A few looked at her with pity or curiosity, but the majority didn't even try to hide their umbrage.

Most would children would have wilted under the intense scrutiny of so many strange adults, but the contrarian in Hancock, the part of her that loved nothing more than to prove people wrong, fought back. Her spine straightened, her chin jutting out defiantly, and she could pretend that she didn't care what these people thought about her. They were slaves, just like her. They had no right to disrespect her when they held no power of over her.

"Hancock?"

Hancock spun at the familiar voice. A group of women were trying to herd Sandersonia into one of the side rooms, purposefully keeping her out of Hancock's side. Immediately after Sonia spoke a buxom redhead put a hand over her mouth to silence her, but Hancock's sister pulled away. 

"You're alive!" Sonia exclaimed, a look of pure relief washing over her. "Mari's here too! We're both safe!"

Hancock froze. Mari and Sonia were both here with her. Alone Hancock wasn't strong enough to escape, but now Dog Face was nowhere to be seen. Together they could overpower Wei easily, so long as they managed to break the control to their collars. From here it was only a short run to the lounge. They could jump from the second story and steal a boat. They didn't need to engage in open combat, so long as they could evade capture long enough to make it to the coast.

The sound of her sister's tortured screams ghosted through Hancock's memory, and she recalled the two guards that were less than fifty feet away. What if they knew haki? What if Hancock wasn't able to stop Wei from using the remote? What would happen to Mari and Sonia if they were caught?

At the very least they would be drugged. Hancock didn't think she could watch her sisters suffer like that a second time.

"Slave." Wei's voice was soft and dangerous as he beckoned Hancock further down the hallway. His voice made Hancock's blood to curdle in her veins. He knew what she was thinking. He knew, and had a contingency plan in place. This was another test. Everything was just another test, and to fail was to invite pain, torture, or even the deaths of her sisters.

Hancock felt the gaze of every woman in the room. She began to tremble as they pierced through her intentions. They saw and they knew, and they would judge her no matter what she chose. Sonia was right in front of her, struggling against the hold of at least five of the women. She, at least, had not lost her spirit. Hancock had not realized that, and had struck her own sister in a fit of rage. 

Such an action was befitting of any Kuja, let alone one who dreamed of becoming Empress. Hancock was unworthy of such a title and her sister's efforts. Hancock was weak, and because of her weakness they would never escape this living hell. All they could do was endure.

Walking away from Sandersonia's startled, confused cries was the hardest thing Hancock had done in her entire life, and as she abandoned her sisters to the horrors that awaited them she thought her heart would tear in two.

* * *

Xaviera was waiting for them in the White Room, which was not a room so much as an apartment suite. It was tucked away in a secluded area of the wing, offering a surprising amount of privacy compared to what Hancock had seen thus far. The living space was by no means large, but it was more than most slaves dreamed of. The main living space was divided between a sitting area with a low table and a single divan and a small kitchen. Decoration was scarce, but a few wall paintings and an artful flower arrangement on the table were tastefully done, and nearly succeeded in making the White Room feel homey. The an illusion of comfort and luxury was shattered by the snail transponders that hung from each corner of the room, their stalk-like eyes never blinking as they watched Hancock's every move.  

"Make sure she settles in well," Wei instructed Xaviera while Hancock only half-listened. "Until her nose heals she's useless to me. Use that time to teach what's expected of her."

"Yes, sir," Xaviera said. She bowed, but not as deeply as the others had.

"And  _you_ ," Wei continued, head swiveling to Hancock like a bird eyeing its prey. "Make sure to stay on your best behavior. I will be most displeased if I hear of you acting out again."

Even now it was difficult to keep her traitorous tongue under control, and Hancock was barely able to keep herself from saying a scathing remark that would have gotten her in trouble. "Yes, sir."

"I can control you just as easily with only one sister as with two. If you instigate any further incidents requiring disciplinary action, you'll find I won't stop at using the stimulant."

"Yes, sir," Hancock repeated hoarsely. Wei didn't say any more, but neither did he make any move to leave. There was a moment of awkward silence as he waited expectantly for Hancock to do...something. She wasn't sure what. Hancock glanced to where Xaviera for some sort of hint.

The older woman leaned forward slightly, and Hancock realized she was expected to bow. Hancock balked. The only one deserving of that honor was the Empress of Amazon Lily. Submitting herself in such a way to anyone else was treason. That was doubly true of Wei, who was not only a man, but the author of her suffering.

He was also the one who could have her sisters killed with a single word. Swallowing what remained of her pride, Hancock bowed deeply at the waist. She could feel the weight of the brand burned into her back, the mark that somehow proved she was less than human. When she straightened her vision was blurred with unshed tears, but even so there was no mistaking Wei's smirk for anything else.

"Do not disappoint me," he said, leaving little to the imagination what would happen if she failed. "I will be back in two weeks to check on your progress. Until then, obey Xaviera just as you would me."

Hancock clenched her hands into fists as he left, concentrating on the pain of her nails digging into her palms to keep from crying. She had humiliated herself enough for one day; she wouldn't shame herself further with another disgusting sign of weakness.

"Well," Xaviera said dryly once he was gone, "I suppose I should give you the grand tour. The bathroom's over in the corner. It's got with your standard shower, toilet, sink, etcetera. The kitchen is fairly well equipped, but if there's something special you want just make a note of it and I'll make sure we get it. After all, Saint Balan has nothing but the utmost concern for our happiness."

"I wouldn't know. I've never seen him," Hancock said.

A humorless smile passed over her face. "You will become more  _intimately_ familiar with him in the days ahead. Speaking of which, I'll show you the spare bedroom."

Unsure of how those thoughts were connected, Hancock followed Xaviera to a heavy wooden door carved with the crest of the Celestial Dragons. Just looking at it made Hancock feel uneasy, but when Xaviera opened it she couldn't help but gasp.

The room was almost as large as the entire rest of the suite combined. It was dominated by a large canopy bed draped in white linin. The carpet, walls, and furniture were also white, giving it a sterile, dead atmosphere

"Saint Balan usually resides in the royal wing, but occasionally he spends the night here. Do not come in unless summoned. He likes it kept spotlessly clean. Our presence will only defile it."

"If our presence will defile the room, why would he summon us?" Hancock asked.

"What are you, twelve? What do you think he wants?"

Hancock glared at the older woman. "Yes."

"Excuse me?" Xaviera asked, her eyes narrowing in an eerie imitation of Wei.

"You asked if I was twelve, and the answer is yes." Hancock frowned a little. "Or I guess thirteen. My birthday was in September."

There was stunned silence. Xaviera's deep blue eyes widened until Hancock could see the whites surrounding the entire iris. They looked almost like sapphires, or the color of the sky as dusk approached. Hancock could believe that Saint Balan had bought Xaviera for her eyes alone.

"You're only…oh God you're being serious." She shut the bedroom door and leaned heavily against it, drawing a hand over her forehead. "What the hell is Wei thinking, replacing me with kid?"

There was a knock at the door. Xaviera's head shot up, all traces of anxiety hidden behind a perfect mask.

"Who is it?" she called.

"Just me," was the muffled reply. The voice was undeniably male, an airy baritone with a mild accent that Hancock couldn't place. "I want to meet your new friend."

" _Maverick_ ," Xaviera hissed under her breath. Clasping a hand around Hancock's shoulder, she said in a hushed tone, "Stay quiet and let me do the talking. He's nothing but trouble."

He was a man so that went without saying, but Hancock nodded her understanding anyway. Xaviera pinched some color into her cheeks and donned a winning smile before answering the door.

Maverick was the prettiest man Hancock had ever seen. He wore no shirt, exposing a lithe, slender frame that reminded Hancock of a dancer. Blond hair fell in waves down to his shoulders, and clear blue eyes were framed by the longest eyelashes Hancock had ever seen on anyone, regardless of gender. He wore confidence like a coat, and there was a grace to his movements that reminded Hancock of a cat on the prowl.

Wrapped lazily around one hand was an iron chain attached to the collar of a young woman only a few years Hancock's senior. She was finely-boned with delicate features that made her look as fragile as a porcelain doll. She looked at Hancock for only a moment with large golden eyes before laughing nervously and dropping her gaze.

She also had the ears and tail of a fox. Hancock looked up at Xaviera incredulously, but a sharp shake of the head stopped her questions before she could ask them.

"Ah, there's the little minx herself," Maverick said in a mocking tone. He gave Hancock an appraising glance, his lips curling upward as he apparently liked what he saw. "You're not the ogress I pictured after seeing the mess you made last week. You've got fire in your blood, don't you?"

"What are you doing here?" Xaviera asked. "The guards will skin you alive if they find out you're in the woman's quarters."

"It's a good thing they won't find me then, isn't it?" He came into the suite uninvited and flopped down on the plush divan, the fox-girl sitting at his feet. Hancock felt like a fool for staring at her, but she couldn't help it. "Besides, Saint Empusa commanded me to take Daji for a walk, and who am I to refuse the command of my mistress?

It took Hancock a moment to remember Empusa was Saint Balan's wife. She knew even less about her than she did the man who bought her

"What is it, doll face? Never seen a mink before?"

Hancock tore her gaze from the girl back to Maverick. "Mink?"

"Half-mink, to be accurate, but yes. Some poor sod let himself be enticed by one of the beasts and tupped a fox. What do you think? Isn't she  _exotic?_ "

The girl made a growling noise in the back of her throat, and Maverick patted her head fondly. "I know, Daj', I know. Saint Empusa has a unique talent for words, to say the least."

"Has she been showing her off again?" Xaviera asked disapprovingly, taking a chair opposite of him. There was no other place to sit, and Hancock had no intention of joining Daji on the floor, so she stood awkwardly to the side.

"Like a favored pet," Maverick replied. "But enough of that. I want to hear about the girl who picked a fight with Simeon and lived to tell the tale. Tell me, how did you manage it? I thought all us wild ones wore zap collars."

Even if she hadn't been given Xaviera's warning, Hancock wouldn't have answered. There was something about Maverick that she didn't like—more than simply the fact that he was a man. He had a smooth, easygoing manner about him and wore a ready smile, but Hancock did not trust him as far as she could throw him. Beneath his charm and natural charisma was something…off. Hancock didn't have to know what it was to know that she didn't like it.

Luckily, Xaviera answered for her. "Leave the poor girl alone. She just came up here today, and the last thing she needs is you interrogating her."

"A name, at least," Maverick said, pouting slightly. "Something for Daji and me to talk about on the way home."

"Isn't it rude to ask for a name without giving your own first?" Hancock asked, a chill in her tone.

"Extremely, but I've never been known for my manners. I think it's why I'm so adorable," Maverick replied with a grin. "But I suppose you have a point. You can call me Maverick. I had another name once upon a time, but my mistress found it difficult to pronounce so she fitted with me something better suited for my nature. Now, if you won't bite me for asking, who are _you?_ "

She hesitated for a moment. "Hancock. My name is Boa Hancock."

" _Hand_ cock?" Maverick laughed. "What, did Saint Balan rename you, too?"

"Oh, for the love of God, grow up," Xaviera said. "And get out, before you get me into trouble."

"You know you love me," Maverick said as he got to his feet. He tugged lightly on the chain, and Daji copied him. Xaviera rolled her eyes and made a rude gesture.

"I wish I could, darling, I wish I could, but in accordance to Saint Empusa's infinite wisdom I've been cockblocked." He raped his knuckles over his crotch, and the sound was surprisingly solid. "It's the only way I'm allowed out of Saint Empusa's sight, and the only way I'm allowed to visit old friends in the harem. But I can see when I'm not welcome. I suppose your young charge will have to hear the news of her sister from a less credible source."

"Wait, wha—?"

"I said get out," Xaviera interrupted, her voice icy cold.

"No, wait!" Hancock cried as Maverick headed for the exit, "What do you know about my sister?"

Maverick only shook his head. "I'm sorry, doll face, but Xaviera's word is law around these parts. If you want to chat with me, it will have to be when the queen bitch isn't around." He smirked as Xaviera's face flushed red with anger before giving a nonchalant wave of the hand and taking his leave. Hancock rushed to follow, but a vice-like grip clasped around her arm.

"Don't," Xaviera said. "He's only leading you on because he thinks you know something that can help him."

"So what if I do?" Hancock snapped. "He says he knows something about one of my sisters."

For a moment, Xaviera looked lost. Her eyes softened, and something that was very close to sadness flickered across her face. "What in the world was Wei thinking, putting you here?" She released Hancock's arm and rubbed her forehead. "You're going to need to know the rules before you start playing games with Maverick and his ilk."

"What do you mean?" Hancock asked.

"Exactly my point. You have no idea what you're getting yourself into." Xaviera sighed. "And I've just been stuck with the misfortune of trying to teach you."


	7. The Player Part II

 

 

"You have spent your time on Mariejois learning to be a slave. It is my duty to teach you how to be an entertainer."

Xaviera paused her lecture to take measurements of Hancock's waist and bust, jotting each number on a piece of scrap paper. "It will be easiest if we start by refining skills you've already developed. Can you dance or sing?"

"No," Hancock said.

"Draw?" Xaviera asked. 

"A bow."

"I meant are you trained in any of the arts?" she said irritably. "Or are you Kuja only capable of killing?"

Hancock jerked her head defiantly. "Amazon Lily is home to the greatest artisans in the world, but  _I_ am a pirate and have trained as a pirate for as long as I can remember. Our strength is our beauty, and I am...I try to uphold that standard.

Xaveria rubbed her temples and muttered something intelligible. After sighing heavily, she took a moment to regather her composure, studying Hancock with a critical eye. Finally she said, "It seems the Kuja have rather different ideas than the rest of us. That sort of thinking will only get you killed. We will forgo any refinement for the moment and start with the basics. I don't suppose you've worn makeup before, have you?"

It was an inauspicious start to the most bizarre training Hancock had ever received, and by the end she wasn't sure who was more miserable, her or Xaviera.

* * *

"It's important to remember that white is the color of the Celestial Dragons," Xaviera lectured. "A slave must never be seen in white clothing. It represents their purity. You'll often see the free men in the Dragons employ wear black as a reminder of their sinful souls, but Saint Balan doesn't require it."

"And what color represents slaves?" Hancock asked, curious.

Xaviera was silent a moment, haunted shadows in her eyes. "Again, it depends on the Dragon, and Saint Balan doesn't usually care, but it is traditional for slaves to wear red. Our blood is theirs."

Hancock didn't ask any questions after that.

* * *

A little more than a week passed with Hancock spending every waking moment under Xaviera's instruction when the den-den mushi rang. Hancock strained to hear, but Xaviera only listened for a few minutes before putting the receiver back into the shell. She petted the snail pensively before turning her attention back to Hancock. 

"I've been summoned to Saint Balan tonight. Stay here and continue working on what you've learned thus far. Even if you're only speaking to yourself in a mirror, polite conversation will flow more easily with practice. God knows you need all the help you can get."

"Wouldn't it be better if I just watched you?" Hancock asked. 

"Absolutely not," Xaviera said sharply. "Master Wei wishes you to get the most out of your training here before your final inspection. Don't argue with me," she said when Hancock opened her mouth. "I need to get ready."

Hancock planted herself mulishly on the divan while Xaviera hurried to their shared bedroom. Moments later she could hear her singing. Xaviera had the loveliest voice Hancock had ever heard, a talent they were both disappointed to find Hancock did not share. Briefly Hancock wondered how she was supposed to entertain Saint Balan when she didn't possess any of the skills these narrow-minded men found useful. She shook that thought from her mind. There would be plenty of time to worry about that later. 

She waited for Xaviera to sweep regally out of the White Room wearing the same blue yukata from the day they had met. Red might be the color of slaves, but Saint Balan preferred her in blue, and that was what Xaviera wore most often. 

It didn't take long for boredom to sit in. Hancock didn't like to stay sitting in one place for long stretches of time. She wondered how her sisters were faring, or if they were still alive. Her thoughts turned - as they did time and again - to the information Maverick claimed to have regarding their wellbeing, and she was beginning to think that Xaviera had been right all along. Hancock had seen neither hide nor hair of the enigmatic man-slave since her move to the White Room, and it was doubtful that he would have been able to gather intelligence on the Boa sisters in such a short amount of time, especially since Maverick served the overbearing Saint Empusa, while Mari and Sonia belonged to Saint Balan. 

There were questions within questions, and Hancock would not be able to answer any of them without more information. Taking a deep, steadying breath Hancock walked silently to the door. Xaviera  _had_ insisted that she practice the art of conversation. There was no better way to practice than with other people.

The video den-den mushi watched as she left the oppressive confines of the White Room. Hancock half-expected an alarm to sound, but nothing happened as she made her way to the lounge where she'd last seen her sister. Half a dozen girls and women  sat idle, but Hancock recognized only one: the redhead who'd tried to silence Sandersonia a week before. It took every scrap of Hancock's self-control to suppress the surge of white-hot anger as she approached. Fighting wasn't going to work here, she would have to use diplomacy instead.

"Excuse me," Hancock said in the simpering tone that was the closest she could manage to politeness. "I don't believe I've had the pleasure of an introduction."

The redhead took one look at her and sneered. "Oh, so the bitch's gone to the pup's come out to play. Why don't you high-tail it back to your royal doghouse. I'm not going to get whipped for talking to the likes of  _you._ "

"Excuse me?" Hancock snapped.

"You heard, brat. Some of us have actually earned a moment's peace, and I won't have it ruined by Master Wei's new toy. Go away or I'll call in a guard."

Hancock's hands curled into fists, the fire of her anger growing only hotter. She didn't say a word, but she didn't need to for the older woman to flinch. Hancock saw the edges of a purple bruise, nearly hidden by her voluminous red hair. In a moment of sublime clarity she also noticed that the clothes she wore were little more than rags, worse even than the rough spun linen Hancock was used to seeing.

This woman was no one. Even if she hadn't lowered herself to baseless insults Hancock doubted that she would be of any help. She gave a long, cold stare to each of the redhead's companions as a silent warning and retreated back to the White Room to think. 

The isolation was it's own kind of torture. Xaviera found her hours later sitting on the divan with her knees draw up to her chest. Hancock could feel her eyes boring into her back, but the older woman didn't speak a word while she put on a kettle to boil. Minutes later she settled next to Hancock and offered her a cup of her horrid tea.

"You will listen next time I give you instruction."

It wasn't a question, but Hancock found herself nodding regardless.

* * *

"For goodness sake, hold still. I'm almost finished." Hancock grit her teeth as a brush tipped with powder dusted across her cheeks. She had been sitting still for nearly two hours undergoing Mariejois's bizarre early-morning rituals with a stoicism usually reserved for funerals. Xaviera called the ridiculous process _beatification_ ; Hancock simply found it to be extremely uncomfortable.

It wasn't as if she'd never worn makeup or dressed nicely on Amazon Lily, but the expectation was that one had to be ready to fight a moment's notice. Emphasis was put on freedom of movement and practicality, and there were even some hardline traditionalists that looked down on Hancock's decision to wear her hair long.

The formal dress that Xaviera was fitting her in had more layers than she was used to wearing. The kimono was certainly pleasant to look at, but Hancock felt like she was suffocating in it. Her face was caked with paints, creams and powders; her hair tugged, teased, and waxed into an elaborate pattern accentuated by heavy ornaments.

"No one else has to do this," Hancock complained as Xaviera backed away to examine her handiwork.

"Some do when the situation calls for it, and the rest would if they could," Xaviera said. "As I've told you before, this sort of thing is used for special occasions. The only reason why I'm teaching you now is so you can  _be_  ready when such an occasion arises. So pay attention. Someday you're going to have to be able to do this by yourself."

"This is stupid," Hancock said under her breath as she gazed at herself in the mirror. She was disheartened to see that could hardly recognize her own reflection; Xaviera had even managed to hide the fading bruises from her broken nose. Wasn't the point of jewelry and cosmetics to accentuate, not hide, the appearance? Hancock felt like a stranger in her own skin.

Quick as a whip, Xaviera's grabbed the fan tucked into her belt and rapped Hancock's knuckles sharply. "Enough. Whether you like it or not, you will soon find yourself under the scrutiny of Saint Balan himself. Master Wei seems to think you have what it takes to be a master entertainer, and trust me when I say you don't want to find out what happens if you prove him wrong."

"Then you should be teaching me what to  _do_ , not how I'm supposed to look doing it," Hancock argued.

Xaviera's lips pursed into a thin line. "I don't disagree, but I have my instructions."

"That doesn't make any sense!" Hancock exclaimed.

"It makes…a sort of sense." Xaviera brought the fan to Hancock's lips to hush her. "Let's sit. We can discuss more over tea."

Growling with frustration, Hancock followed her to the sitting area and plopped moodily into the divan, not caring if she ruined any of Xaviera's efforts. Her mentor let out a longsuffering sigh as she put water on to boil.

The pair was silent as Xaviera laid out two cups and carefully measured tea leaves from a bag kept in the cupboard. She moved with an effortless grace that Hancock was sometimes envious of, each step a part of a dance that she didn't understand.

The kettle whistled, and Xaviera brought over the tray and poured the water. "I remember watching as my older sister preformed her first tea ceremony," she said quietly. "She would be appalled if she saw this."

"I didn't know you had a sister," Hancock said.

"That was a long time ago. I shouldn't have brought it up, but sometimes you reminded me of her. She was pigheaded, too." Xaviera took a delicate sip, and a more serious expression came over her. "Master Wei is going to conduct your inspection today, and assuming he finds you to be in good condition, he could present you to Saint Balan as soon as tomorrow. More likely he'll wait for at least a week, perhaps even a month or longer, but there's no way to tell for sure."

Hancock's knuckles turned white as she gripped her cup. "And you still won't say what's expected of me?"

"I've been directed by Master Wei not to."

"Then he wants me to fail," Hancock said miserably. "This is his way of getting revenge for trying to kill him."

Xaviera choked on her tea. "You did what? Wait, no, don't tell me. I don't want to know." She set her cup down. "And I don't think that's what Master Wei wants. Even though he's free, Master Wei has to answer to Saint Balan just as much as we do. If he presents Saint Balan with a product that is unsatisfactory, his position—if not his life—is on the line. Which is why I believe he'll wait before presenting you to Saint Balan, if only to give me more time to work with you."

"You mean to show me how I'm supposed to look."

"How you look is half of the battle. Saint Balan likes his women…" Xaviera cut herself off and closed her eyes. Hancock waited in bewilderment as she took a deep, steadying breath. At last she seemed to come to a decision, and when she looked at Hancock again, her midnight-blue eyes were unreadable. "I am going to choose my next words very carefully. I don't wish to disobey the orders I've been given, but it's not fair to you to walk into this blind. Do you understand that there are things I simply cannot tell you?"

"Yes."

"We—that is, everyone who lives in this wing—can be in a general sense be called entertainers. Usually when Master Wei goes to auction he buys women who already possess a certain talent, dancing or music or the like. The new slaves are then placed under the supervision another slave to further develop and hone their ability while learning under someone more experienced."

"But that's not what happened to me or my sisters. We were pirates," Hancock said.

"I know, but I don't think you realize just how  _few_  female pirates there are on the seas. You and your sisters are an extremely rare commodity. You're all the rarer still because despite your age, you are exceptionally beautiful."

"You mean my appearance," Hancock said. She was just starting to wrap her mind around the fact that men judged beauty based purely on aesthetics. This seemed incredibly stupid; aesthetics were subjective, by their very nature different to each person. With no absolute standard, what passed for being beautiful to one man might be considered hideous to another. The way of Amazon Lily was much preferable. Strength was easy to measure, consistent, and more practical to daily living.

"Yes, your figure is considered extremely attractive, and you're not done growing yet. Do you remember how much you were bought for?" Xaviera asked.

"I…we were bought together. As a set," Hancock said.

"Three human children together would usually fetch little over a million berries at auction. My guess is Master Wei spent quite a bit more on you and your sisters."

Hancock didn't answer.

"I thought so," Xaviera said, leaning back into her seat. "Master Wei only joined the employ of Saint Balan recently, but he's been buying slaves longer than you've been alive. He doesn't squander money on sentimentality or charity cases. He must believe that the three of you have great potential, but that counts especially for you."

"How do you know that?" Hancock asked.

"Because you're here. Your attack on Master Wei alone should have been a death sentence, not to mention the stunts you've undoubtedly pulled since then." A troubled look cross her face. "And most girls start at the bottom rung and have to fight their way through the hierarchy. You've seen the others."

Hancock remembered the redheaded woman. She wore threadbare rags that Hancock wouldn't have let a snake nest in. Other women in the women's quarters were half-starved, with dark hallows under their eyes and hopelessness in each step that they took. There was no spacious apartment suite for them to live in, likely no bed for them to sleep in, and no Xaviera to train them. Hancock didn't need haki to feel their misery.

"Will it hurt?" Hancock asked softly, pushing the image of Marigold and Sandersonia being forced to live in such wretched conditions out of her mind. She couldn't help them if she didn't survive, and she couldn't survive unless she managed to somehow entertain Saint Balan, whatever that meant.

"What do you mean?" Xaviera said.

"What Master Wei wants me to do with Saint Balan. I'm not a trained dancer, and I don't know how to sing, so that can't be what he expects of me. You know what's going to happen. I know you know."

"Hancock, I told you that I'm not allowed…"

"I didn't ask what it was," Hancock interrupted. "I just…I just want to know if it will hurt."

Xaviera didn't answer for a long time, so long that Hancock thought she was going to ignore the question. Finally she sighed.

"Knowing you, it will at least be uncomfortable," she said frankly. "There is the potential for significant pain, but there are too many variables for me to speculate any more than that."

"Like what?"

"Like whether or not you try to fight back, and your body's natural response. The most unpredictable thing is Saint Balan himself. On a good day, he's the most affable man you'll ever meet."

"And on a bad day?" Hancock asked apprehensively.

Xaviera's smile was devoid of any humor. "Let's pray you don't have to find out."

* * *

 Hancock walked out of the White Room drowning under the weight of the expectations that had been placed on her. This time she kept her head bowed low as the other woman watched her and Xaviera make the pilgrimage to Master Wei.

Her conversation with Xaviera troubled her. The older woman confirmed Mari and Sonia's theory. Master Wei _had_ picked her out specifically, and Hancock couldn't help but think her haki had something to do with his motivation. She didn't like thinking of herself as some sort of collector's item, but to these men that's exactly what she was.

But if she was special enough to be bought for nearly two million berries above the usual asking price, that meant she was also an _investment_. For all his threats, Master Wei didn't really want her dead. He couldn't, not after spending that much money. That had to give her some bargaining power. Maybe wasn't as completely helpless as she originally thought.

As she mulled over this new possibility, Xaviera led Hancock through a maze of rooms and corridors into yet another part of the manor she was unfamiliar with. She had been told that the Celestial Dragons were the direct descendants of the kings who founded the World Government eight hundred years prior. She didn't know how many Dragons existed in the present day, but it was difficult to imagine them all living in such excess without bankrupting the very institution their forefathers created.

Finally Xaviera stopped at a large pair of doors. She glanced at Hancock sidelong. "Remember, this is only an inspection. Behave yourself, and we'll work through the rest as it comes together."

Hancock didn't trust herself to speak. With shaking fingers she smoothed the front of her kimono. It by itself was a work of art, handstitched out of brilliant crimson silk and patterned with a flower Hancock could not identify. Xaviera graciously let her borrow it for this momentous occasion, and thinking about how much it must have cost made Hancock's mind spin.

Xaviera had told her once that the clothes made the woman. Hancock wasn't convinced that was true, but right now she could pretend. Thusly dressed, Hancock was more than a lowly slave, she was the future Empress of Amazon Lily. She wasn't a scared, wretched beast desperately searching for a way to protect her younger sisters, but a confident, capable woman making her way through a terrible situation with grace and poise.

She could be beautiful.

Steeling herself, Hancock nodded once. Xaviera motioned to the guardsmen on either side of the doorway, and the two women were ushered into their meeting with Master Wei.

Only Master Wei was not alone. He stood at the foot of a raised platform that housed two throne-like chairs occupied by Saint Balan and his wife. Hancock glanced at Xaviera, barely able to hide a look of shocked betrayal. There had to have been some sort of gross misunderstanding; the Celestial Dragons weren't supposed to have any part of the day's proceedings. She wasn't supposed to see them at all for at least another day, if not longer. Hancock didn't realize how much she'd put by that promise until it was torn cruelly from her.

Xaviera gave no indication of surprise. Had she known they would be present all along? Was there any way she  _couldn't_ have known? Xaviera held the attention of both Master Wei and Saint Balan. It was absurd to think that they would have changed the plans for today's proceedings without telling her.

She had known, but had chosen not to tell her. Fury rose within Hancock, which she did her best to quell as she forced a look of stony indifference. Over the last week she'd allowed herself to trust the older slave, to look to her as one she could depend on. That was foolishness. Hadn't Xaviera admitted that very morning that she would obey the commands she'd been given, regardless of the effect on Hancock's wellbeing? Wasn't she universally despised by the slaves in Saint Balan's collection for her callous disregard for anyone other than herself? 

It seemed so clear now. The only thing that escaped Hancock was a motive. If Hancock made a mistake out of ignorance the blame could easily fall on Xaviera. It seemed out of character for someone as cautious as her to take such an enormous risk. Unless, of course, she had been ordered to, and this was simply another test set up by Master Wei, Saint Balan, or both men conspiring together. 

Hancock grit her teeth silently. They were only setting themselves up for disappointment if they thought she would be so easily tricked.

"Well don't just stand there," Master Wei said waspishly. "Come forward and give your master his proper respect."

Hancock's feet moved on their own accord, falling into consort with Xaviera's small, delicate steps. When they were nearly parallel with Wei they stopped and kneeled prostrate on the floor. This, too, was something Hancock had learned from Xaviera. She should have known her mentor wouldn't have wasted valuable time teaching her how to approach one of the Celestial Dragons if they weren't going to actually meet one.

"Rise." Saint Balan said in a deep, booming voice. Hancock did as she was told, trying to keep her hands from shaking through sheer force of will. 

"It's as beautiful as promised," Saint Balan mused. "But then again, I own many beautiful women. Tell me, Wei, does the little monkey know any tricks?"

"None that you'd appreciate, Your Holiness," Wei said regretfully. "The girl was a pirate, one of the famous Kuja tribe you've undoubtedly heard of."

This piqued Saint Balan's interest. Though Hancock kept her eyes glued to the ground, she could hear the material of his bulky white suit move as he leaned forward. "From the Isle of Women?"

"The very same, Your Holiness."

"A savage," Saint Empusa said. She spoke in a nasty, nasal tone that sent a shiver down Hancock's spine. "Has she been disinfected? I don't want her taint to ruin the room."

"Thoroughly, Your Holiness," Wei said smoothly. "And cured of her uncouth ways by the means provided to me under your just rule. It is your gracious generosity that allows me to take these beasts and make them useful to the world."

Saint Empusa ate up every word, apparently not hearing the sarcastic overtone in Wei's voice. Out of the corner of Hancock's vision, she could see one of Saint Empusa's clawed hands reach down and scratch a small red lump that was setting on the floor. The lump stirred, and Hancock watched in horror and disgust as Daji uncurled herself from where she had been laying like a dog at the feet of her mistress. At ear twitched as Saint Empusa petted hair that was as red as her foxlike tail, and she made a sound that was almost a purr.

"You're right, of course," Saint Empusa said. "If we don't bring civilization to these wild creatures, nobody will."

"I didn't come here to listen to your ridiculous nonsense," Saint Balan said. "Bring her forward."

"Behave, or your sister's lives are forfeit," Wei hissed in a low tone as he grasped Hancock's elbow. Her heart began to pound in her chest as they approached the two Dragons, and she was sure everyone in the room could hear. When she was at Saint Balan's side she lowered herself to her knees. Her warrior's instincts were clamoring not to put herself into such a vulnerable position when surrounded by so many enemies, but she had no choice.

_He could kill me if he wanted, and there's nothing I could do to stop him,_ Hancock thought as she waited in anxious anticipation. She scarcely noticed when the door to the room opened again, Maverick entering carrying a tray laden with food and wine.

"Look at me, slave," Saint Balan rumbled. Somehow Hancock found the courage to do as she was told. On any other person his bulky white suit and ridiculous upswept hairstyle would have made her laugh. On him, it somehow managed to be terrifying.

Hancock barely remembered him being present at her branding, but in the six months since then had only seen him in the portraits that decorated his manor. He was an older man, his jet-black hair streaked with grey. Like many World Nobles he was overweight, but not nearly to the extent Wei was. Watery grey-brown eyes examined Hancock like she was a thing to be eaten, and an unpleasant smile stretched across his face.

"You have no idea how long I've yearned for one of your kind to add to my collection. The existence of your people is an abomination. How many times has the World Government offered to accept Amazon Lily into its fold? How often have they spat in the face of such generosity, committing crime after crime against the innocents of the world?" A gloved hand reached down and touched her cheek gently, tenderly. "I think the marines should just send a fleet out to the Calm Belt and be done with it. After all, why offer amnesty to those who have committed the unpardonable sin?"

Hancock caught the question against before it passed her lips, but she couldn't keep the confusion off of her face. Saint Balan's expression did not change as he struck her across the cheek. He didn't hit particularly hard, and Hancock was able to keep herself from falling. Her cheek stung with pain and humiliation, but she kept in control of her temper.

"I have waited for years for this," Saint Balan said gleefully, rising to his full height. He reached to the inside of his robes and pulled out a gun before training it at her head. "It was your first empress who was responsible for the death of my ancestor Saint Moloch. I will hold the perpetrators accountable, starting with you."

It took Hancock precious second to process the threat, and even then she could hardly believe it. He was going to kill her for a crime that occurred six hundred years in the past. Was this the reason Wei had bought her, so she could be shot in cold blood for an injustice  _his_ ancestor had instigated? Had Marigold and Sandersonia already been sacrificed to satisfy this insane noble's lust for vengeance?  With complete disregard for Xaviera and Wei's warning, Hancock raised her head, looking past the gun to stare at coldly at the man who held it. For the first time since entering this damnable room her mind was clear. She wouldn't beg, not to this monster who called himself a man. She would face her end with dignity, in a way that would make any Kuja proud.

A melodious laugh broke the tension. Saint Balan's head snapped up, and he glaring murderously at Maverick. The slave remained unperturbed, the corners of his eyes crinkling with suppressed mirth.

"What's so funny?"

"Forgive me, Your Magnificence, but you're all so…so  _serious_." Maverick tittered again into his hand. "Of course she should be punished, but why ruin such a pretty face? I'm sure there's a more fitting castigation for her contemptable crime. Something more worthy of your resplendent nature. Something where us peons can look up with fear and trembling and say, ' _Did you hear what Saint Balan does to the sordid wretches who cross his path? We stand in awe of such power.'_ "

Saint Balan considered this, and the barrel of his gun lowered a fraction of an inch. "And what, pray tell, did you have in mind?"

"Oh, how Your Excellency honors me with such a question! I, but a lowly slave, would hardly dare to make a suggestion. Surely Master Wei would be able to offer a suitable alternative?"

This time it was the Wei's turn to glower, and Hancock wondered what in the world Maverick was playing at. When there was no answer, the handsome slave shook his head mockingly. "No? Then perhaps the lovely Xaviera could be of some assistance. Surely she, with her many years of expertise, could enlighten the matter."

Even beneath the layers of makeup, Hancock could see the color leave Xaviera's cheeks, but she made no move to speak.

"Ah, such dearth of imagination. it seems that leaves it to me to think of something. Hmm…" Maverick brought a hand to his lips as he thought. After a moment of contemplation he snapped his fingers. "I have it! Forgive your humble servant's question, but I find my memory lacking. Is not tomorrow the celebration of Your Upstanding Highness's birth?"

Behind her, Hancock heard Xaviera take a sharp breath that was almost a gasp.

"It is," Saint Balan said, his eyes narrowing. Some time during Maverick's performance he had tucked his gun back in his robes and now he regarded the spectacle in front of him with curiosity.

A radiant smile broke out across Maverick's face. "How fortuitous, and many happy returns. If memory serves, you will be hosting a grand banquet, and banquets always require entertainment."

He approached the platform and made a sweeping bow. He was close enough now for Hancock to see the wicked glint in his eyes. She couldn't understand why he was helping her, but she had no choice but to be grateful. Unsettling as she found him, Hancock couldn't deny that if not for his interference, she'd likely be lying in a pool of her own blood.

"What better way to show your authority over these despicable Kuja than to have one of their warriors make her debut in front of a host of Dragons. Word of your vengeance will spread all through Mariejois. The world will sing your praises. Justice for the late, great Saint Moloch will begin, and the best part is, as long as she is alive you can punish her over, and over, and _over_ again for the blood that runs in her veins."

An unnatural hush fell over those present as they waited Saint Balan's judgement. The silence stretched for so long that Hancock had to fight the urge to fidget. Her eyes flickered between Maverick's earnest face and Saint Balan's unreadable expression. Finally Maverick gave a boyish smile, as if saying,  _Well, what do you decide?_

At this, Saint Balan threw back his head and laughed. The sound boomed throughout the spacious room, surprising everyone in it. Everyone, except for perhaps Maverick, whose grin only spread.

Hancock wasn't going to die, at least not today. She went dizzy and lighthearted with relief, and didn't hear what her master said next. Before she realized what was happening, Wei was jerking her to her feet and rushing her from the room, trailed by a frightened-looking Xaviera. 

Hancock had never seen Wei move so quickly. By the time they got back to the women's quarters, his face was sheening with sweat, and a thunderous expression was in his eyes. He shoved Hancock over the threshold of the White Room, and as soon as Xaviera slipped in behind him slammed the door shut.

"Explain yourself!" he said, voice tight with fury.

"I didn't do anything," Hancock said. She looked to Xaviera for conformation of this fact, but the older slave was leaning against the wall, covering her eyes with one hand.

"Your people  _killed a World Noble_!" Wei roared.

"Centuries ago! It was just a story, I wasn't even sure it was true—" Hancock was cut off as Wei struck her across the face with the back of his hand. The rings on his fingers cut into her cheek, and Hancock staggered backwards.

For a moment the only sound was of Wei panting. A thin trail of blood trickled down Hancock's jaw. She wiped it away before it could stain the carpet. She was trembling again, and her breaths came out in shaky, uneven gasps.

"It doesn't matter," Wei said, rubbing his knuckles. "I wash my hands of this."

"My sisters…"

"As far as I know, Saint Balan does not realize he has two other Kuja in his possession. Do your duty tomorrow, and I'll make sure he never does."

Xaviera finally roused herself. "Master Wei…"

"Shut up," he snapped. "You're just as guilty as she is for this. Consider you next actions very carefully, or you can consider our agreement void."

Wei stormed out of the room. When he was gone, the strength left Hancock's knees and she collapsed into the divan, burying her head in her hands. There was a rustle of material as Xaviera came beside her, and she wrapped her arm around Hancock's shoulder tentatively.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I'm so sorry."

_Then why didn't you warn me?_  Hancock thought angrily. Slowly she gathered herself back under control, and looked at the older women. "He's going to kill me, isn't he?"

For that, Xaviera had no answerr.

 


	8. The Player Part III

As it turned out, the next day was the first day of what would eventually be a two-week celebration of Saint Balan's birth. Soon the manor would be host to over a dozen Dragons as well as rulers and wealthy businessmen who had somehow managed to curry favor with the high nobility. As Hancock wandered the woman's quarters she heard someone say the cost of the flowers alone cost over one hundred thousand bellies. Slaves and free men alike buzzed with both nervousness and excitement, and many seemed to hope that they would catch a few of the crumbs that fell off Saint Balan's table.

Hancock didn't know how Xaviera had kept something so huge secret from her for weeks, but based on some of the nasty glares some of the other women gave her, she could guess. She didn't know which hurt worse: Xaviera's betrayal or the knowledge that today was most likely her last.

"Get outta my way," a scantily-dressed blonde snapped, pushing Hancock aside. "Some of us got  _work_  to do."

"Wait, I'm looking for my sisters," Hancock said. "Have you seen them? They're called Sandersonia and Marigold. They're a little bit taller than I am, one with green hair and the other orange. I need to talk to them."

"Can't expect me to keep my eye on every bitch that comes through. Go ask _her highness_  if you're so desperate," she said rudely. She brushed past Hancock and disappeared into the crowd of women who were all preparing for the evening's festivities. Growling in frustration, Hancock continued her search.

It was no use. There were too many women running around in various stages of undress, with those were fully clothed wearing fantastically elaborate, impractical costumes of every color and design imaginable, often shimmering with crystals and jewels. Sandersonia and Marigold were nowhere to be seen, which Hancock hoped meant they were being excused from the night's festivities, although she couldn't quite bring herself to believe they were that lucky.

A hand grasped her bicep. "What are you doing?" Xaviera hissed.

Hancock whirled, glaring down at her so-called mentor. For the first time she realized she was taller than the other woman, which somehow gave her courage.

"What does it look like?" Hancock asked.

"Get back to the White Room.  _Now_. You're making a scene."

"And why should I care?" Hancock challenged, not bothering to keep her voice down. A few women stopped to listen, and Hancock thought she heard one whisper "you tell her" under her breath. Hancock smirked. The crowd was on her side.

Xaviera swept her eyes across the room, her expression hardening. "You'll care the moment Saint Balan realizes just who your sisters are," she murmured just loudly enough for Hancock to hear.

"Is that a threat?"

"A warning. As I'm sure you know, news travels fast amongst women. Now go back to the White Room; you've preparations to make."

Hancock did as she was told, but not before curling her lip with distaste. She tossed her head imperiously, causing her hair to ripple like black silk down her back. She thought she heard Xaviera sigh.

"Master Wei sent your costume for the evening," Xaviera said with a sort of resigned weariness. "Saint Balan requested it specifically for you. You'll make your debut after the meal while I'm on the main stage."

"By myself."

"Yes." Xaviera opened the door to their rooms and gestured for Hancock to enter first. "There's no time for me to teach you anything else. Once you're dressed you're free to do as you please until this evening, but…I would advise you to keep to yourself as much as possible."

"You've lost that right," Hancock said coldly.

"Perhaps," Xaviera allowed, "but you're not thinking clearly. No matter what happens tonight your sisters are still in danger of Saint Balan's wrath. Your actions are putting them in danger."

She spoke calmly and what she said made sense, but it was not what Hancock wanted to hear. She hadn't spoken to Mari and Sonia since the morning of Dog Face's test. That had been weeks ago, and nothing she'd experienced since then did anything to assuage the worry that ate at her worse than any acid. It was very possible that time was running out, and Hancock didn't want her cruel abandonment of them to be their last memory of her.

"I have to see them," Hancock said. "I…I have to say goodbye."

The lines in Xaviera's face deepened, aging her ten years in an instant. "I thought you might say that. I'm sorry, but they're not here."

"They're not…here?" Hancock's rage—always so close to the surface—boiled over. Blood pounded in her ears, and before Xaviera could react, Hancock grabbed two fistfuls of her robe and drove her into the nearest wall. "What did you do?" she yelled, lifting the older woman off her feet. " _What did you do to my sisters?!_ "

Xaviera sputtered something incoherent, and Hancock dropped her in disgust. Xaviera crumpled like a puppet with its strings cut, instinctively raising her hand to protect herself. Hancock fed off of that fear. For too long she had been rendered helpless, unable to even protest the indignities preformed against herself and her sisters. A small part of her knew Xaviera was not the cause of her predicament, but the rest of her didn't care. She was  _angry_ , and Xaviera couldn't fight back.

"I won't ask again," Hancock said, her voice as hard and cold as steel. "What have you done? Where are they?"

"I don't know," Xaviera gasped. "I knew you would want to find them tonight. It wouldn't even surprise me if you tried to escape. I…I simply voiced my concern to Master Wei."

Hancock wanted to tear her hair out in frustration. "And now they're gone.  _Damn it!_ " She punched the wall with a haki-infused fist, tearing through the plaster as if it were wet paper. Wei could have hidden them anywhere, and Observation was not her strong suit. It could take hours to find them, hours she didn't have.

Wei promised he would keep them safe so long as she did as she was told. No, that wasn't right. He promised he'd not tell Saint Balan they were Kuja. Even if they never interacted with their master on a personal level, Marigold and Sandersonia risked death every time they woke up in the morning. But if Hancock  _didn't_ obey their fate was sealed.

It was a lose-lose situation.

"Where is it?" Hancock growled.

"Where's what?" Xaviera asked.

"The costume I'm supposed to wear tonight. Where did you put it?"

"On your bed, but Hancock, there's—" It was too late. Hancock had already gone to their shared bedroom and slammed the door shut, cutting off whatever it was Xaviera had to say.

Hancock stopped short when she saw what had been laid out on her cot. Carefully she picked the garment up with her thumb and forefinger, holding it as far away as her body as she could as if it were diseased. She didn't understand. Xaviera taught her that formal dress required many layers of stiff, uncomfortable fabric.  _This_ dress, if it could even be called such, was almost nonexistent. Even without trying it on Hancock knew it would barely go past her hips, and the material was so light it was nearly transparent.

"I tried to tell you." Hancock jumped at the unexpected voice in the doorway. Xaviera leaned against the frame, more careworn than Hancock had ever seen her.

"I would be more decent if I just went out naked," Hancock said, appalled.

Xaviera couldn't bring herself to disagree. "Would you like help getting ready?" she asked quietly.

Hancock almost said yes, but managed to stop herself just in time. She couldn't—she  _wouldn't_ —overlook or forget the part Xaviera had played in this debacle. She shook her head stiffly.

Disappointment flickered across her face, quickly hidden behind a mask of stone. "As you please." The door clicked shut, and Hancock was alone once more.

A wave of melancholy washed over her as she changed her clothes. Hancock missed her sisters. A memory of them playing war games on Amazon Lily flashed into her mind unbidden. She could feel the sun on her skin as she dashed up and down the coast. There had been a sense of belonging and comradery as they pushed each other to their absolute limit, determined they would someday be strong enough to go to sea as one of the Kuja Pirates.

She remembered helping Mari develop her haki and fighting alongside Sonia to defeat a baby seaking. They had grown up together, nearly inseparable from toddlerhood on. They were more than sisters and more than comrade-in-arms. Sonia and Mari looked up to her, and Hancock had failed in her responsibility to protect them.

There wasn't time to indulge in self-pity. Hancock forced the memories away as she slipped into the slinky dress. When she saw the result she frowned. Her breasts strained against the confines of the material, and although her nipples were technically covered they were still clearly visible. If she wasn't careful, the action of kneeling or sitting would render her indecent.

Hancock felt exposed. She wasn't ashamed of her body, but she didn't know what this  _meant_. Nothing good had ever come of her being naked in the presence of men, and Wei's assault at the auction house ghosted through her mind. When she shivered it had nothing to do with the cold.

There was a soft knock at the door. "Come in," Hancock said numbly.

Xaviera entered, eyeing Hancock cautiously as she walked over to their shared closet. She approached a moment later and wrapped a robe over Hancock's shoulders. Hancock grasped at it gratefully.

"Do you remember how to get to the room we went to yesterday?" she asked.

Hancock didn't, but she nodded anyway.

"The guests are outside at the moment, but that's where they'll retire to dine. Afterword the celebration will truly begin. It will be loud. Raucous. Saint Balan will expect you then."

Cool fingers brushed a strand of hair out of Hancock's face before gently tilting her chin up. Their eyes locked, and Hancock was confused by the sadness she saw.

"There is a room behind the stage where you can wait, or you can stay here with me," she said. "I have my own preparations to make and will be occupied for several hours, but I understand if you want your space."

Xaviera's gentle, knowing tone only made the confusion worse, and Hancock tore herself away. She didn't want or need the older woman's paltry attempts at comfort. "I'll go to the stage. Goodbye, Xaviera."

Hancock rushed out of the room as quickly as she could, but even so, she still heard Xaviera's say a sorrowful goodbye in return.

* * *

 

Hancock wandered around the manor aimlessly, not sure where she was going and not caring that she didn't know how to get there. No one was expecting her until after supper, and it was just barely three o'clock in the afternoon. The corridors were mostly empty, eerily so. Everyone was outside.

Eventually Hancock settled at the lounge with the glass wall. She gazed outside, her eyes settling to a small cluster of Dragons. She'd never seen so many of them gathered together. Saint Balan by himself was bad enough, she couldn't imagine how terrible it would be to have so many in one place.

"Why so blue, doll face? Most would be excited to be granted a stay of execution."

She didn't bother to even glare at Maverick as sauntered towards her. He wasn't wearing a shirt and his body had been painted with something that glittered in the light. He looked utterly ridiculous, and Hancock didn't hesitate to tell him so.

He laughed. "Speak for yourself. At least I get to keep my private bits mostly covered."

Hancock flushed in shame, and wrapped the robe around herself more tightly.

"No need to be embarrassed. You've got nothing we've not seen before. But…it's true, isn't it? You're one of the Kuja from the Island of Women?" Hancock nodded hesitantly, and Maverick's let out a low whistle. "True blue? And Master Wei is making you debut tonight? That's just cruel."

"It was your idea," Hancock reminded him.

"I was just trying to keep you from being shot," he said. "I thought Master Wei would be able to change Saint Balan's mind later, you know, after he'd calmed down. These nobles are just like children. Very easily distracted." He paused, looking at her as if considering something. "Have you even  _seen_  a man before?"

"Of course I have," Hancock said defensively. "I'm seeing one right now, unless there's something you've neglected to mention."

Maverick snickered into a hand. "You misunderstand me, doll face. Have you seen  _all_ of a man? Do you know what's going to happen to you tonight?"

Hancock's heart skipped a beat. "Xaviera said Master Wei forbade her from saying, but that was before Saint Balan learned who I was."

"Xaviera would say that, wouldn't she?" he muttered. He looked out to where the freemen played. "Now  _there's_ cruelty."

"What do you mean?" Hancock asked. He hesitated, and she grabbed his arm tightly, "Maverick, you have to tell me. What didn't Xaviera say?"

Maverick glanced behind them, making sure they weren't being watched. There was no one else in the lounge, but he shook his head. "Not here. Walk with me to the stage. We'll be less conspicuous that way."

He set off at a leisurely pace. His normal grin was fixed firmly in place, but it looked strained. Hancock hurried to follow, unsure if she was doing the right thing. On one hand, it was Maverick who suggested Saint Balan punish her today in front of all his noble friends. On the other hand, his actions had most likely saved her life.

On the day they met he'd been willing to share news of her sisters. Xaviera had stopped him from saying anything, but if she truly had an agenda against Hancock, why would she keep trying to help her? It didn't make sense, and Hancock's head was swimming with confusion. She couldn't trust either of them, and more than ever she wished her sisters were here to help her sort through their tangled mess of motivations.

"I should have seen it coming," Maverick said as they walked, clucking to himself. "I mean, it isn't as if Her Royal Bitchness hasn't done something like this before."

"Everyone keeps calling her that," Hancock said, recalling their first conversation together.

"If the boot fits, doll face, if the boot fits. One does not occupy the White Room for ten years without sowing some bad blood along the way."

"I thought you were friends. Kind of."

"We are," Maverick said. "The closest of chums, considering the circumstances. But that doesn't mean I don't think Xaviera isn't a nasty piece of work when she wants to be. You understand her place in the household, don't you?"

"She's the most important slave in the woman's quarters," Hancock said. "When Saint Balan comes, he stays in her rooms."

"The Queen of Quims," Maverick confirmed. "And then  _you_ came along and threatened her position."

Hancock processed this information, trying to fit it in with everything she already knew. "This has happened before?"

"Oh, yes. You're not the first project Master Wei's brought along. Would you believe that Daji used to room with Xaviera?"

"What?!"

"It's true," Maverick said. "Poor girl lived her whole life in the mink tribe before being captured. She was more ignorant than even you, if that's possible, without any of the backbone. She didn't last a month before Xaviera arranged to have her shipped to Saint Empusa."

"But  _Daji_? Hancock asked incredulously. "She's…she's…"

"An animal?" Maverick supplied. "Barbaric? Less than human?" He wagged his finger at her in disapproval. "Don't let appearances fool you. When Daji first arrived she was just as civilized as you or I, and quite a bit politer than the two of us put together. It was Saint Empusa's idea to turn her into some exotic pet."

They arrived to the great hall, and Maverick put a finger to his lips to silence her questions. A dozen slaves were scrambling to set up last-minute decorations, watched by a handful of scowling men in black suits. Maverick walked past them confidently, having the audacity to wink when one glared at them.

Half of the room was dominated by two long dining tables. At each place fourteen pieces of silverware were set beside empty platters gilted with what appeared to be real gold. Hancock tried to calculate how much a single place setting cost, but her mind was still reeling from Maverick's revelation.

Together they walked past an open space Hancock guessed would be used for dancing and onto a raised stage. Behind the curtain was more activity, slaves of both genders dressed like the women Hancock had seen in the woman's quarters. She recognized a few of them, including the blonde who'd told her off. Maverick led her away from all the commotion to a quiet corner where they could speak without being overheard.

Hancock still couldn't picture it. Every time Hancock saw her, Daji acted more like a well-behaved dog than a person. Forget training with Xaviera, Hancock couldn't think of a time she'd heard the fox-girl  _speak_. What in the world had Saint Empusa done to her? What had  _Xaviera_ done to her?

"You have questions, I can tell," Maverick said. "Go ahead. Ask to your little heart's content."

"If what you're saying is true, then Xaviera's been disobeying Master Wei's instruction. How can she be allowed to do that?" Hancock demanded.

"Not disobeying,  _undermining_. There's a difference, and it's an important one." Maverick propped himself against the wall with languid ease. "Xaviera's clawed her way to the top of the food chain, and she doesn't want to have that protection taken away from her. I don't blame her for it, I'd be the same way if I were in her position."

"There's no protection in being so close to Saint Balan," Hancock said darkly.

To her surprise, Maverick laughed. "Oh, you poor ignorant bastard. There  _is_. Xaviera is Saint Balan's favorite, and that makes her untouchable to anyone else. Wei himself would hesitate to raise a hand against her, and he's the Master of the Bedroom. So he brings along someone to replace her, someone he thinks he can manipulate. Someone who doesn't know better. Someone like…you."

He smiled brilliantly at Hancock's horrified expression.

"Do you see it, doll face?" he asked. "We're all pawns in someone else's game. The question is whether you'll fight back or let yourself be sacrificed for their ambition. There isn't any middle ground."

Hancock couldn't stand to look at him anymore. She spun around and grabbed her head with both her hands, fighting the urge to scream. She didn't know if Maverick was telling the truth, but she had to admit what he said made sense. If Wei's first attempt at ousting Xaviera failed because Daji was too passive, of course he would be interested in Hancock's Conqueror's Haki. If Xaviera secretly wanted Hancock to fail, it made sense for her to withhold key pieces of information from Hancock while pretending to help her. All the pieces fit together into one nauseating whole.

If there was anything Hancock hated, it was the feeling of being used. Even on Amazon Lily she had fought against those who thought they could control her. The surest way to get Hancock to do something was to tell her that she couldn't. It was that stubbornness that had led her and her sisters to becoming three of the youngest pirates in Kuja history, and the same stubbornness that fueled her anger now.

"Why are you telling me this?" Hancock asked once she finally felt like she could speak again. Her voice was deceptively calm, and for a moment Maverick seemed taken aback.

He recovered quickly, a lazy smile spreading across his face. It made him look like a contented cat. "You're learning quickly, doll face," he said approvingly. "You're right, I'm playing a game of my own, but I think you'll find we have common interests."

"What do you want?" Hancock asked, hands balling into fists.

"Simple." Maverick tapped the collar that circled around his neck. "Like you, I caused a fair bit of mayhem when I was first bought, and like you I was fitted with a shock collar to detour me from further misconduct. My question is this: How the hell did you do it?"

"Do what?"

Maverick's eyes flashed, and for the briefest of moments Hancock saw the true man hidden behind his mask of good-natured humor. " _Bypass it_ , of course. I saw the bloody mess you left behind after your fight with Simeon. He should have been able to cut you down before you threw a punch."

"Oh. That." Hancock shrugged in what she hoped was a nonchalant manor. "I broke the controller."

"That's it?"

"That's it."

Maverick frowned thoughtfully and ran his fingers through his golden hair. His eyes flickered to where the other entertainers were preparing. A few were giving them strange looks, but for the most part Hancock and Maverick were being left alone.

"We shouldn't be seen together for much longer. People will get inquisitive, and I think that would be a poor outcome for all parties involved," Maverick murmured, almost to himself. He took a heavy breath and offered Hancock a crooked smile. "You're interesting. We should talk again another day. But that would necessitate you  _having_ another day."

He shuffled closer to Hancock, leaning in too close for her comfort. "Let me offer you a piece of advice, doll face, free of charge," he said, his voice as smooth as velvet. "The Celestial Dragons are nothing but a bunch of hedonists searching for their next pleasure. From infancy they've been given everything they've ever wanted and still they don't know what to do with themselves. Forget justice for his ancestor, Saint Balan is  _bored_ , and killing you is nothing to him but a fleeting amusement."

Hancock's pulse quickened. She tried to back away from Maverick, but there was nowhere for her to escape to. She had no choice but to stand her ground and hope he didn't notice her discomfort. "And what do you suggest?" she asked evenly.

"Alleviate his boredom. Be interesting enough that he has to keep you alive. Don't allow yourself to be sacrificed for nothing."

A hand found her hip and gently squeezed it. Hancock went completely still and prayed that no one was looking at them. Her reaction made Maverick chuckle, and an intense fire burned in his eyes. It was the same look Saint Balan had given her the day before, and unease made her stomach twist into knots.

"In your places everyone! The guests will be coming in any minute!"

The shout, coming from somewhere on the stage, broke the spell. Maverick released her reluctantly. "That's my cue, doll face. From here on out, you're on your own. Play time's over, it's time for the test to begin."


	9. The Player Part IV

Hancock was in pain.

It was a different sort of pain than she was used to, like she'd been torn apart from the inside out only to be put haphazardly pieced together again. Her head ached, and her mouth felt like it was full of cotton. As she drifted in the limbo between consciousness and unconsciousness, she wondered what in the world had happened. She didn't  _think_ she'd been fighting, because fighting led to punishment, and this felt nothing like Dog Face's drug.

"Wake up, Hancock. You've done your part, but you can't stay here."

"Xaviera?" Hancock mumbled. Slowly her eyes fluttered open, and for a moment her vision swam in a confusing wheel of bright colors and indistinct shapes. She was just barely able to turn her head as her stomach rebelled in protest, and watery vomit splashed over the plush white carpet.

Carpet, not the marble of the manor hallways or uneven stone of the House of Correction. Where was she?

"You'll need to help me. I'm not strong enough to pick you up by myself."

A hand hooked around her arm, and Hancock hissed as Xaviera accidently pressed against a newly formed bruise. The young Kuja was forced to rely heavily on the woman who betrayed her just to stand, and a fresh wave of nausea washed over her.

"There we are, just let it out," Xaviera murmured as Hancock retched again, but there was nothing left. The sound of her dry heaves echoed through the empty bedroom. It felt so familiar, but her mind was a dense fog and her body hurt and…oh, God, she was in the White Room. She wasn't ever supposed to be here without Saint Balan, and now Xaviera knew of her wicked disobedience and would tell Master Wei and…

Hancock flinched as Xaviera draped an old blanket around her naked body. Clutching Hancock for support, she took a few tentative steps forward. A sharp, raw pain shot through Hancock's core and she stumbled into the older woman. Xaviera was just able to keep them both upright as she staggered against a corner of the four poster bed, the grip on Hancock's shoulders tightening.

"Come on, Hancock. Just a few steps, and I can get you cleaned up."

Cleaned up? Hancock looked down at herself and froze. Dried blood smeared the inside of her thighs, mixed with other fluids that she didn't know the name of. Xaviera stifled a cry of pain as Hancock's fingers involuntarily dug into her arm. She remembered now. She knew what Saint Balan had done to her. What  _Man_ had done to her.

But most of all Hancock remembered how powerless she had been to stop it.

* * *

  _Be interesting. That's what Maverick said she had to do to survive. The advice was less than helpful, but Hancock could think of nothing better. Maverick, like Wei, seemed to think she was better off alive. But while the Master of the Bedroom had already written her off as a lost cause, the infuriatingly-mysterious slave thought she had a chance. All she had to do was survive the night._

_The problem, Hancock mused as she watched the festivities unfold, was she had no idea what constituted as 'interesting' to these men. On Amazon Lily it would have been easy; a good showing in the arena or a display of her haki was more than enough to capture the attention of the elders. Here, when a slave wheeled out a fearsome likeness of a dragon carved out of a block of ice, a drunk noble shot it for no other reason than because they could. Then a dance troupe of reasonable skill preformed while the guests ate, but Saint Balan and his fellow Dragons didn't seem to notice. Nor did they especially appreciate the five course gourmet meal laid out before them._

_Throughout it all the slaves were offered nothing, but Hancock wasn't sure she could eat even if she were allowed to. Her deadline had approached, and she still didn't know what she was going to do. The only good thing to come from her vigil was she saw nothing of Marigold or Sandersonia. She was willing to do anything to keep her sisters out of the sight of the Celestial Dragons, even if it meant dying herself._

_Hancock clenched her fist as she watched the noble pigs eat the last of their dessert. She hadn't been called for yet, but something within her was saying now was the time to move. Her mind flashed to Maverick's ridiculous performance the day before. Now_ that  _had been interesting. He'd somehow managed to catch Saint Balan's attention and manipulate him into doing the will of a slave, all while pretending that he was only looking out for his master's best interests._

_That was the key, then. All this time Hancock had rubbed her disobedience in the faces of the men who owned her, and had been severely punished for it. Maybe all she needed to do was obey in a way that at first looked like rebellion. After all, Saint Balan was used to slaves and free men alike rushing to fulfill his every whim. That was normal. Expected._

_If Hancock wanted to live, she had to do the unexpected in such a way that didn't make him want to kill her._

_With this new thought turning in her mind, Hancock slipped out of her robe. The temperature had risen with so many people in such an enclosed space, and sweat made her costume cling to her body. Hancock took a deep breath and combed her fingers through her hair. From somewhere nearby she could hear Xaviera take center stage, her smooth, melodic alto weaving with the sweet accompaniment of a piano._

_It was time. Somewhere deep inside Hancock was glad she was able to do this on her own terms. Carefully she slid away from her hiding place and boldly approached the table where the Celestial Dragons segregated themselves from the other guests. It didn't take long for her to be noticed. A few nobles openly ogled her, others snarled at her temerity. Hancock only smirked, subtly lifting her chin in quiet defiance. She didn't know if they were allowed to hurt her, but she was betting everything that they couldn't, not with her master so close at hand. When she was near enough she jumped onto the table, gracefully avoiding food and drink as she found her footing._

_Hancock didn't know how to dance, but she did know how to fight, and in this case the difference was irrelevant. Her heart pounded in her chest, and her cheeks flushed red with embarrassment as she realized they could see she was wearing nothing underneath skirt of her dress, but very step was purposeful as she made her way down the table. Delicate kicks transformed into pirouettes, her hips copying the movements she'd seen other slaves make throughout the night._

_Her dance was a slow one, Hancock simultaneously doing everything she could to make sure Saint Balan's eyes were on her alone and trying to avoid the inevitable. But the table was only so long, and too soon she saw herself face to face with her master. Saint Balan's gaze seemed to bore into her very soul as Hancock stood with her feet planted firmly on either side of his plate._

_Slowly, very slowly, he stood, raising himself up to his considerable height. Belatedly Hancock realized that her posture could be seen as a threat and scrambled off of the table before kneeling on the floor. Her breaths came out in shaky, panicked gasps as she bowed her head, just like Xaviera taught her._

" _You called for me, Master?"_

_Hancock hoped the question came out in a humble, yet confident way, but to her it just sounded desperate. A hush fell over the Dragons as they waited Balan's pronouncement, and suddenly Hancock was struck with inspiration._

_She lifted her head and forced a smirk on her lips. She was hoping to convey Maverick's trademark expression, but based on Saint Balan's reaction she did not succeed._

_A meaty hand reached around her neck and forced her to her feet. The small of Hancock's back dug into the table as he leaned in so close that their noses were almost touching. The anger almost radiated off of him, and Hancock could smell wine on his breath. She closed her eyes and tried to remain calm._

" _What is the meaning of this?" he said, his voice so low that Hancock almost didn't hear the question. When she didn't answer right away, the grip around her throat tightened._

_In a moment of sublime clarity, Hancock realized how easy it would be for her to break his guard. For all his power over her, she knew she could kill him. All it would take was one strike._

_Instead she said, "I thought this was what you wanted, Master. Forgive me if I was wrong. I deserve my punishment, and look to you for forgiveness and mercy."_

_Saint Balan's weight shifted, and Hancock felt something poke into her midsection. A low growl escaped from the back of his throat, and before Hancock could register what was going on, his lips crashed down onto hers._

_Hancock had succeeded in capturing her master's interest, but even as her life descended into a living hell she had no idea how much she was going to suffer for it._

* * *

 The water was scalding hot, but Hancock didn't care. She sat numbly in the bathtub as Xaviera entered the room carrying a caddy of her personal soaps and lotions with one hand and two bottles of pills with the other. Neither spoke a word as she put a generous portion of something that smelt of lavender into a cloth and worked it into a lather.

"I'll get your back," Xaviera said quietly, pressing the cloth into Hancock's hand. It took Hancock a moment to realize she was meant to wash her front. Her arms moved mechanically as she scrubbed as hard as she could in an attempt to was the dirty, unclean feeling away. A dull ache rippled through her as she shifted her weight, and Hancock bit back a moan.

Xaviera noticed anyway. From one of the medicine bottles she took out two pills; from the other, one. "Take these. It will help."

"I don't want them," Hancock said, her voice low and harsh. And  _sore_. She remembered screaming at some point during the night, for all the good it did her. It had irritated Saint Balan and entertained a few of his guests, something she quickly learned was a dangerous combination.

"Take them anyway," Xaviera said, gently but firmly. "Your body needs rest. These will help you relax and help prevent…unwanted complications."

"No. I don't…don't deserve it," Hancock mumbled, head hanging in shame. The pain was a reminder of her weakness, her  _ugliness_. Tears prickled at the corner of her eyes, and Hancock curled in on herself in a vain attempt to hide from Xaviera's knowing gaze.

"Oh, Hancock…" There was pity in her voice, and Hancock hated it, almost as much as she hated herself.

"Just go away and leave me alone!" Hancock shouted. She felt like she was breaking on the inside. Hancock had neither the understanding nor the clarity of mind to understand what had been done to her, and lashing out against Xaviera was the only thing that made her feel like she still had some control over her life.

"I didn't ask for your help! I don't  _want_ your help! This is all your fault, and—and  _I hate you_!"

"What…?"

"Was this part of your deal with Master Wei?" Hancock said as hot, angry tears streaked down her face. "Was this your plan to get rid of me like you did Daji? Well it won't work! I'm alive, and there's nothing you or anyone else can do to keep me from getting my sisters back home. Do you understand?  _ **Do you** **?!**_ "

Energy cackled in the air, and Xaviera took a step back. The display of haki wasn't enough to make her faint, but her whole body tensed, like a deer about to flee from a hungry wolf.

Xaviera was afraid of her, and knowing that gave Hancock no small satisfaction.

"You've been talking to Maverick," Xaviera said evenly. All the pity and unwanted kindness had disappeared, replaced with the carefully guarded expression of someone talking to an enemy.

"Of course I've been talking to Maverick," Hancock snarled. "He's actually  _helped_ , unlike you. Now get out or I'll kill you. Don't think I won't. I-I'm a warrior of Amazon Lily, and I can still do that much."

Very slowly, as if burdened by a great weight, Xaviera took another step. "I'll go," she said. "God help you, I'll go. But believe me when I say your body needs rest. Last night was just the beginning."

Xaviera set the pills on the sink and left. She paused at the door and looked like she wanted to say something more, but only shook her head before leaving Hancock alone with nothing but the horror of her future to contemplate.

* * *

_Hancock curled up by the edge of the bed with her back to Saint Balan. Her eyes were glued to the bulky white suit that laid in a heap on the floor. The gun her master carried was somewhere in that pile of clothing. She could regain her lost honor with one shot, claim once more the strength she'd boasted in before being captured. She would be violently killed for such a crime, but she would die as a Kuja, and that was infinitely better than living as a slave._

_Saint Balan snorted as he rolled over. A heavy arm draped around Hancock's waist, his touch sending shivers up her spine. Yet she didn't move. Six months ago she wouldn't have hesitated, but if there was one thing she'd learned since arriving to Mariejois was that actions had consequences._

_Even if she could kill him, Hancock didn't think she could find and escape with her sisters before being caught. Saint Balan had forced her to do unspeakable acts, and Hancock willingly surrendered her body to him for the sake of Mari and Sonia. If she struck now, all their sacrifice thus far would have been for nothing._

_The hand around her waist moved upward to her breast. Hancock's breath hitched as Saint Balan laughed quietly into her neck._

_She could handle once, but as his hands continued to roam Hancock's remaining self-control crumbled. She screamed in protest and tried to push him off of her._

" _Stupid bitch!" Saint Balan snarled as he struck her across the cheek. "You're_ mine _, and you'll do as I say! Wei, come here!"_

_The door opened, and Master Wei waddled into the room. "Yes?"_

" _Tie her down! It seems this one needs taught a lesson."_

_Wei did as he was told, but not before propping Hancock up and forcing a drink of something cloyingly sweet down her throat. Hancock choked and tried to spit it out, but he held her nose closed until she took in every drop._

" _There, that should put her in a more agreeable mood," Wei said as a leaden heaviness spread through Hancock's limbs. There was no resistance left in her as he wrapped a piece of rope around her wrists and tied her to the head of the bed._

_Hancock didn't remember much after that, but what little she did recall was terrible enough to give her nightmares for the rest of her life._

* * *

Hancock didn't know how she managed to get herself cleaned and dressed. She felt heavy and uncoordinated as she made her way through the woman's quarters, the aftereffects of Wei's drink not yet purged from her system.

For all that it felt like her world had been irrevocably changed, life amongst the slaves seemed to be business as usual. There weren't many up yet after such a late night, but Hancock overheard a few talking about the festivities and wondering what day two of Saint Balan's birthday celebration would bring.

The mention of Balan's name made Hancock stumble. A dark haired girl of about nineteen looked down at her with concern. "What's the matter, love? Got a touch of the collywobbles?"

"That's her," another hissed. "That's the one I was telling you about. You shoulda seen it. The cheek of that girl, to strut down the Dragon's table like she owned the thing!"

The first gave Hancock an appraising once-over, apparently unimpressed. "You sure you got the right one? I can't see her taking over Xaviera's place."

Heat flushed through Hancock's face. She'd almost forgotten that everyone had seen her humiliating display of submission. "That was me," Hancock said with more confidence than she felt. "I…I spent the night with Saint Balan."

It almost killed her to say the words out loud, but Hancock knew there was little point in trying to hide it. Everyone in the great hall had seen her be taken away, and they would have noticed when Saint Balan never returned to his own party. There was power in being the master's favorite, and while Hancock wasn't sure she'd taken over Xaviera's throne, if Master Wei's plans went according to plan it was only a matter of time.

"I need to talk to a slave named Maverick," Hancock continued. "Do either of you know where he is?"

"See, I told ya," the second drawled. "No one else here has the balls to ask a question like that out in the open. I'm sorry, but I don't keep up with that sort."

"I might know where he is," the dark-haired girl said with a small frown, "but I don't know why'd you want to see him. He's one of Saint Empusa's."

"That doesn't matter," Hancock said harshly, her knuckles turning white as she grabbed onto a chair for support. "I need to talk to him."

* * *

_She was finally alone. Saint Balan had gotten what he came for, and had no more use for her. Hancock was free to weep for her stolen innocence unseen, judged for her weakness by no one except herself. It was a small mercy, but one she took comfort in._

_That was, until the door opened once more. Hancock moaned in dismay, and she tugged futilely against the ropes that still bound her. Hadn't he done enough for one night? What more could he take from her?_

_The canopy to the bed was drawn back, and between her blurred vision and the darkness it took Hancock a moment to realize that the man was_ not  _Saint Balan, but Master Wei. He set his small candle on the dresser beside the bed and began untying the knot around the headboard._

" _A little rough around the edges, but that's what he likes, at least to start," he said to himself. "I may get my money's worth after all."_

_Hancock whimpered as her arms fell to her side. Wei brushed the hair out of her face with the back of his hand, his black eyes unreadable in the candlelight._

" _Ever full of surprises, aren't you?" he crooned. A self-satisfied smirk spread across his face as she tried to look away. "No need to fear, you're safe for tonight. From me, anyway."_

_Wei laughed as he left her, high-pitched and cruel. When the door slammed shut Hancock struggled to move, to run away. It took every ounce of strength the lift herself upright, and when she did a wave of nausea rushed through her body. Planting her hands firmly on the bed to steady herself, Hancock took a series of deep breaths until the feeling passed._

_It was then she noticed she'd placed her hand in something hot and wet. Hancock looked down and was barely able to make out a dark stain in the middle of the stark white sheets. It was blood._ Her  _blood._

_Strengthened by her revulsion, Hancock flung herself off of the bed. She landed in a heap and found she couldn't move anymore. The tears returned and did not stop until she'd exhausted herself. Then, despite the shame and humiliation, she drifted to sleep, wondering what Wei had planned for her next._

* * *

"It's not smart to meet like this, doll face," Maverick said through a jaw-popping yawn. It was clear he'd just gotten out of bed, his hair tousled in golden disarray and his pants stained with what Hancock hoped was wine.

"I don't care," Hancock said. Her rage against Xaviera was gone, leaving her empty and hollow. A part of her regretted her outburst, but she'd spoken the truth. Mostly. Xaviera was nothing more than another enemy, and it had been that way since the beginning. Hancock hadn't seen that for too long, fooled to believing that because she was a woman they were on the same side.

"Hmn. So to what do I owe this great pleasure? Hopefully something worth being dragged out of bed at the ass-crack of dawn." He said it with his usual good humor, but his eyes were cold and hard.

"I want to see my sisters," Hancock said. "You know something about them. I know you do. I told you how to get past the controllers. You owe me something in return."

His eyebrows rose. "Are you serious? Without my help, you'd be lying dead in a ditch somewhere. I'd be risking more than Xaviera's wrath by telling you something like that."

"You said that advice was free," Hancock countered. "And there's no way of knowing for sure that I wouldn't have figured something out myself. If we're going to be…partners, or allies, or whatever you want to call this, there has to be give and take. You  _owe_ me."

"And are we?" Maverick asked. "Are we partners or allies or whatever you want to call it?"

Hancock hesitated and glanced behind her. Of course, her Observation already told her no one was there to hear them, but still it seemed wrong to say it out loud. Maverick was a man, and Kuja did not associate with men. It was a taboo so deeply engrained within her she couldn't remember when she first learned it.

At the same time, Hancock had broken so many of Amazon Lily's laws she wasn't sure she could consider herself a proper Kuja anymore. One more wouldn't make much difference, and Hancock refused to sit passively by and let Mariejois destroy her bit by bit until nothing was left. Already she felt on the verge of giving in, and unless she did something drastic one good push would be enough to send her over the edge.

This wasn't a surrender, but a tactical retreat. She had lost too many battles for her to think it was possible to win this war by herself. She needed Sonia and Mari, and Maverick knew where they were.

Which meant, as much as she hated it, she needed him, too.

"We are," Hancock said solemnly. She offered her hand to seal the bargain.

"Then we have ourselves a deal, doll face," Maverick said as victory flashed in his eyes. His hand clasped around hers, and no matter how hard she tried, Hancock couldn't shake the feeling that she was making her worst mistake yet.


	10. The Usurper Part I

Hancock's alliance with Maverick, or the you-scratch-my-back-I'll-scratch-yours understanding that she still couldn't believe she'd agreed to, was strange. Maverick pointed out that Hancock would be under greater scrutiny now that she was bedding Saint Balan, which was true. He also pointed out that any news he had on Marigold and Sandersonia was weeks old and likely no longer accurate, which was also true. As they parted ways Maverick instructed Hancock not to contact him again directly.

"Saint Balan's a jealous man, doll face," he murmured, tucking a stray hair behind Hancock's ear. "As well he should be. Now that you're fixed in his gaze he's not going to let you go again, least of all to a scoundrel like me. Lay low for now. I'll see what my birdies turn up, and with a little luck we'll be able to move onto the next step."

"And what's that?" Hancock asked, batting his hand away in irritation.

Maverick only smiled.

Hancock was not patient by nature, and she found the waiting game to be incredibly frustrating. She was called into the White Room three more times during Saint Balan's birthday celebration. Most nights it was Xaviera who entertained their master, although occasionally one (or more) of the less prominent girls managed to secure that honor. Hancock didn't like staying in the suite when she knew the second bedroom was occupied, but Master Wei's new stringent regulations sometimes left her with no choice.

Hancock was no longer allowed to wander without a chaperone. Her diet was designed to keep her under a certain weight, and she was required to take nutritional supplements to maintain her health and, more importantly, her beauty. Other pills stopped her cycle and prevented what Wei called "complications". Being with Saint Balan was bad enough without having to worry about her monthlies on top of everything else, so Hancock didn't ask questions.

Saint Balan remained dangerously unpredictable, sometimes going out of his way to make her life miserable, other times seemingly apathetic to her existence, and once leaving Hancock with a feeling that was almost…good. That frightened her more than anything. Pain she understood; it was what she expected from men. But pleasure? That was nearly incomprehensible.

It was lucky for her that Saint Balan was rarely in such a generous mood, and though it felt like they went on for an eternity, the festivities did eventually end. Hancock woke the day after the grand finale with a pounding headache and an eye that wouldn't open all the way. With a groan, she rolled off her cot (cot, not bed. She'd not been called, then) and looked at herself in the mirror.

There was a cut on her cheekbone maybe an inch and a half long surrounded by a lurid bruise, and memory trickled in of Saint Balan striking her with the butt of his gun the night before. Hancock touched the tender mark gingerly, wondering how in the world she was supposed to explain why she'd been pistol-whipped to Master Wei. It wasn't her fault that she hesitated when Saint Balan asked her to do something especially obscene out in the open where everyone could see. Sometimes she could pass her revulsion off as an attempt at being coy. Obviously this time she failed.

At least the cut didn't look like it needed stitches. Hancock went to the kitchen and grabbed a bag of ice out of the freezer to help with the swelling. Xaviera was already up and nursing a cup of tea. The older woman grimaced at the sight of Hancock's face but didn't say anything. The two had reached an understanding, and so long as neither crossed over the established boundaries they could live together in uneasy peace.

"There's oatmeal on the stove. I didn't know if you wanted anything for breakfast."

"Maybe later," Hancock said, slumping into a chair. She let her good eye flutter closed as she iced her cheek. The ache faded as a delicious numbness spread through her face.

There was silence as Xaviera finished her tea. When she was done, she went to wash her cup and Hancock could study her without being noticed. Her long, dark blue hair was let down and still damp from a shower, and all she wore nothing underneath a loose-fitting robe.

Xaviera only ever wore casual clothing after being with Saint Balan. Hancock searched for bruises or abnormal posturing that would indicate she'd been hurt, but couldn't find any. Hancock could  _never_ find any. Xaviera had the almost supernatural ability to safely navigate Saint Balan's moods. After surviving ten years in the White Room she understood him better than anyone, and there was a part of Hancock that wanted to ask her what her secret was. Pride alone kept her mouth clenched shut.

"Things should die down over the next couple of days," Xaviera said, oblivious to Hancock's mounting envy. "Master Wei has instructed me to accompany Saint Balan and Saint Empusa to their son's manor for a more private celebration. I wouldn't be surprised if you're asked to come as well."

"Saint Balan has a son? Have I met him?" Hancock asked, thinking to the dozens of Celestial Dragons she'd come in contact with over the past two weeks.

"No, Saint Abraxas is a recluse. He never leaves his abode, and would prefer it if no one entered it either. But so long as Saint Balan lives and is head of the family he must do as his father says."

"Does Saint Balan have any other children?" Hancock said.

"The way I understand it, most were surprised Saint Balan and Saint Empusa tolerated each other's presence long enough to manage the one." Xaviera smiled as Hancock's confusion worsened. "I know. It seems to me that there are easier ways to manage it, but there are laws against Celestial Dragons legitimizing bastards. Keeps the bloodline pure, you understand, and it takes away the temptation of a slave using their children to further their position."

Hancock didn't understand, but she nodded anyway. To be fair, she had a difficult time wrapping her mind around the concept of marriage in the first place.

"I've only met him a few times myself. Usually they let Saint Abraxas's slaves attend to their needs when they visit. I wonder…" Xaviera's gaze grew distant, and she fingered her collar thoughtfully. Then she shook her head. "Never mind. I'm going to get dressed. You should try to cover that eye up before Master Wei sees you."

* * *

There was only so much makeup could do, but Hancock did her best to minimize the damage. It made no difference to Master Wei. The moment he saw her, his nostrils flared with anger

"You've been warned time and again, slave, that your disobedience will not be tolerated."

There was no point trying to explain herself when men never listened. Hancock took a deep breath and closed her eyes, waiting for him to shock her. But to her immense surprise the sting of punishment never came.

"Tonight you will accompany Saint Balan to his son's home," Master Wei continued. "I've already given Xaviera the clothes you're to wear, and you  _will_  be on your best behavior. Have I made myself clear?"

"Yes, sir," Hancock said, her curiosity mounting. If she didn't know better, she would think Wei was nervous. For all that he was spouting his usual venom his attention wasn't focused on her at all, and he kept playing with the rings that adorned his fat fingers. Saint Balan treated Master Wei with the same contempt he did his slaves. Wei could no more afford to make a mistake in their Master's presence than Hancock.

"I don't think I have to tell you what you stand to lose if tonight does not go well. You have been given more than enough chances. It's time you started earning your keep."

There was a soft knock at the door, and Wei cast an irritated look in its general direction. "What is it?"

The door opened a crack, and Daji slipped her way inside. She wilted at Master Wei's castigating glare, her tail tucking between her legs. "Saint Empusa sent me, sir," she whispered. It was the first time Hancock had heard Daji talk, and she was surprised by how normal the fox-girl sounded.

"Whatever for?" Wei demanded.

"I-I'm supposed to travel with Miss Hancock and Miss Xaviera, sir."

"You're going to Saint Abraxas's?"

"Y-yes, sir," Daji said, bobbing her head in frightened agreement.

"Bah," Master Wei said scornfully. "Very well. If I hear either of you has left this room, I'll make sure you'll regret ever being born.

"Yes, sir," the slaves chorused. Master Wei left soon after. Daji visibly relaxed once the door to the White Room clicked shut, and she stood a little bit straighter.

"I don't know how you can stand it," she said quietly, running her long, slender fingers through her hair.

Hancock shrugged. "You manage. I don't understand why he's threatening you, though. He's Saint Balan's dog, not Saint Empusa's. He doesn't have any authority over you."

"Every free man has authority over me," she said quietly. An ear flickered as Xaviera came out of the bedroom, and a shy smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. "Hello, Miss Xaviera."

"Well isn't this a pleasant surprise," Xaviera said warmly. "What brings you here?"

The smile vanished, and a look of anxiety filled Daji's golden eyes. "Saint Empusa. She says if Saint Balan gets to take slaves to Saint Abraxas's house, so does she."

"And you were the lucky pick," Xaviera said, her brow furrowing. "I take it they're still playing power games with one another, then."

"It's getting worse. They argue every time they see each other, and Saint Empusa says…I shouldn't repeat what Saint Empusa says out of respect to Saint Balan, but it's awful."

"Well, you don't have to worry about that here. Come, sit down. Would you like something to eat?" Xaviera said. Daji did as she was told, a look of pure gratitude washing over her.

Hancock reheated the leftover oatmeal and watched as the Daji devoured the food with a ferocity she wouldn't have thought the fox-girl capable of. After she was done eating, she and Xaviera sat at the table together, sharing another cup of tea. Xaviera asked, "How are you doing these days? You look exhausted."

"I've found favor with Saint Empusa," Daji said, eyes dropping modestly. "It is my duty now to stay up with Saint Empusa when she can't sleep. I was up half the night reading to her."

Daji tugged her sleeve in an attempt to hide a deep purple bruise on her wrist while she and Xaviera struck up a friendly conversation. She was careful never to say anything directly against her mistress, but after listening to some of her stories Hancock decided that Saint Empusa was just as unpleasant, spiteful, and cruel as her husband.

After an hour or so, Xaviera brought out a blanket from the bedroom and suggested that Daji try to get a little rest. At first the other girl refused, until she was reminded of how she'd been kept up all night tending to Saint Empusa's insomnia. Finally Daji relented, and before long she was curled up on the ground—Saint Empusa forbade her from sleeping on furniture—dead to the world.

When Daji was asleep Xaviera made herself more tea and sat on the couch looking troubled, and Hancock didn't know what to make of the situation. It was Xaviera's fault Daji was in her current predicament, though Hancock thought in some ways it was preferable to her own. Certainly Hancock couldn't picture the small, timid girl serving Saint Balan in the same way she did.

Did Daji know of her former mentor's betrayal? If so, Hancock had to respect her ability to act as if they were still on friendly terms with one another. But what did Xaviera have to gain from maintaining such a farce? While some noble families maintained joint custody of their slaves, Saint Balan and Saint Empusa did not. When Saint Balan gave Daji to his wife, he had quite literally handed over any right he had to her, and there could be major repercussions if he tried to command or punish her without the permission of her mistress. Of course, such legalities were rarely enforced among Dragons, but it was extremely taboo for a free man to interfere with a slave that he didn't own.

It was too much for Hancock to try to figure out. Complaining of a headache, she retreated to her bedroom and curled on her little cot. She wasn't tired and she wasn't comfortable, but she was alone, and lately that was a blessing in and of itself.

She must have fallen asleep, because the next thing she knew she was being gently shaken by the shoulder. Hancock threw a wild punch before realizing it was only Daji. Apparently the girl was used to dodging such blows, because she nimbly ducked out of reach to avoid getting hit.

"Whaddya want," Hancock growled, shoving her face back into her pillow. She immediately regretted putting pressure on her eye, and reluctantly sat up in her cot.

"It's almost time to get ready," Daji said. "A-and I have a message. From Mr. Maverick."

All traces of sleepiness vanished. "Maverick trusts you?" she hissed under her breath.

Danji glanced reluctantly at the closed door before stepping closer to Hancock. For the first time the Kuja noticed a downy layer of fur dusted her cheeks, lighter in color than her hair, almost blonde. There was more hair on the back of her hands, thicker than what would ever be found on a human but much finer than any sort of natural animal. Daji noticed Hancock's gaze and her face flushed red with embarrassment as she uselessly tried to tug her sleeves over her hands.

Reaching out, Hancock grabbed Daji's wrist, using just enough strength to stop her. The fox-girl froze in place as Hancock turned her hand over in hers, feeling the heavy callouses that could have only built up after countless hours of hard labor. She noted with a sort of detached interest that her fingernails—while trimmed almost to the quick—were naturally black and thick.

"I'm sorry," Daji whispered. "I know it's ugly. B-but Saint Empusa won't let me shave it like Saint Balan did."

"A warrior's only beauty is her strength in battle," Hancock said bitterly as she thought of her own failings.

"It doesn't matter either way. Minks…minks are supposed to be strong." Hancock waited for her to elaborate, but Daji only shook her head. "W-we don't have much time. Just know that Mr. Maverick hasn't forgotten his promise. It will be easier to search when we're gone."

"And then what?" Hancock demanded.

"I don't know."

"That's not good enough." Hancock struggled to keep her voice down. Her Haki told her that Xaviera wasn't anywhere near the bedroom door, but that would change if she started yelling.

"Trust Mr. Maverick," Daji said, her voice suddenly earnest. She grabbed Hancock's hands with desperate strength, for the first time willingly looking in her eyes. "He's been so good to me. He'll be good to you, too, but you have to trust him. You  _have_  to."

Hancock pulled her hands away in disgust. "I don't trust him as far as I can throw him. Now get out; I have to change."

* * *

Where Saint Balan and Saint Empusa preferred cold marble and bright, open rooms their son leaned toward dark hardwood floors and enclosed spaces decorated with intricate tapestries and heavy, ornate rugs. Saint Abraxas's home was smaller and less grand than his parents, and there was a feeling of self-imposed isolation. Despite being nearly thirty years old he was unwed and without children, and many rooms of the manor were unused.

"I don't see how he can manage with only forty slaves," Saint Empusa complained after they were greeted by one of Saint Abraxas's footmen. "We should buy him some more at the next auction."

"He does not  _want_ more slaves," Saint Balan said, his tone indicating he thought that this was a great injustice. "Not unless they know how to cook. It's unnatural."

"Still," Saint Empusa pouted, "he's practically wasting away. Abraxas was always so delicate…"

"I did not come here to talk about the failings of my son!" Saint Balan snapped. "Shut up, or I won't be able to enjoy the celebration and my night will be ruined."

Daji yelped as Saint Empusa tightened her grip around her leash. She'd been made to crawl on her hands and knees and since reuniting with her mistress had taken on the mannerisms of an animal. Her treatment made a wave of disgust wash over Hancock, but there was nothing to be done. She and Xaviera wore heavy chains of their own, handled by Master Wei after Saint Balan declared he couldn't be bothered to carry them.

The footman returned before Saint Empusa could give her response. He bowed deeply and led the entourage to the main dining hall. Hancock's gaze flickered around her surroundings, noting all escape routes and looking for anything she might be able to use to her advantage should the opportunity to escape arise. She noticed that the footman had the scars of a brawler on his knuckles and wondered if all of Saint Abraxas's slaves knew how to fight and, if so, whether they would rush to defend their master if the need arose.

All thoughts of escape stopped when she laid eyes on her master's son. During Saint Balan's two week birthday celebration Hancock had gotten the indication that most Celestial Dragons were overweight to one extreme or another, but never before had she seen anyone so large as Saint Abraxas. If she had to guess, Hancock would have to say that he was seven hundred pounds or more. His white suit struggled to contain the seemingly endless rolls of fat and each breath seemed to be taxing. He sat on a custom made chair that sagged under his immense weight, a slave girl at his side to attend to his every need.

Hancock had never seen anything so repulsive in her life. Saint Abraxas had more in common with a beached whale than a human being, and while Amazon Lily held each of the warriors in high regard no matter the size, Hancock doubted Abraxas could  _stand_ , let alone fight. At least Saint Balan could handle a gun, his son needed someone to bring a goblet of wine to his lips so he could drink.

For the first time since coming to Mariejois, Hancock found herself agreeing with her master. Saint Abraxas was a failure, in every sense of the word. She wondered how he even managed to fit through the doorway to get into the dining hall. The mental picture was too funny, and she had to duck her head to keep from laughing.

Master Wei noticed and gave a subtle tug of warning to the chain around her neck. Hancock went still until one of Saint Abraxas's slaves handed her a large palm leaf to fan Saint Balan with. The Celestial Dragons and Master Wei were led to their seats while the slaves were forced to stand through the entire feast.

And it  _was_ a feast. At the clap of his hands, Saint Abraxas's a line of slaves entered the dining hall, each burdened with a large plate of food. The first course consisted of hors d'oeuvres and caviar, followed by a cold cucumber soup and a consommés garnished with fresh-cut vegetables and shaped savory custard.

For the third course there was poached sea-king in a sauce  _au vin blanc_. It was one of the few delicacies Hancock actually recognized, and it made her eyes widen. It was extremely difficult to hunt sea-kings without ruining the best cuts of meat, and only the bravest fishermen dared to do so.

"It seems your new toy has an eye for quality," Saint Abraxas said with dark amusement as one of his slaves fed him another bite. He looked at Hancock that made her feel like he wanted to eat  _her_ , and she had to suppress a shudder.

"She's learning to appreciate the finer things in life," Saint Balan agreed with a smirk. A hand brushed across her backside. From across the table Saint Empusa stabbed her meat with more force than necessary, and she loudly changed the subject.

Dinner continued. Sautéed chicken with lyonnaise potatoes. Vegetable marrow farci. Roast duck over a bed of jasmine rice. Sherbet in brandy sauce. Vegetables of every variety, fruit drizzled with sweet syrups, rich puddings that she couldn't name. And, of course, no birthday celebration would be complete without cake.

Just  _looking_ at the excess made Hancock sick. There was enough food served for twenty people, and she knew no Dragon would lower themselves to eating leftovers. She sincerely hoped that Saint Abraxas's slaves were allowed to eat the extra, but most likely it went to waste. The longer the meal went on the more Hancock burned with anger, but she kept it hidden. After many hours the last plates were taken away and coffee and port was brought out.

Judging by how much his hands were wandering Saint Balan was quite drunk already, but Xaviera poured him a generous portion, making sure that he got a good look of her chest as she leaned over. Saint Balan snorted appreciatively, and settled back into his seat before addressing his son.

"You certainly know how to keep a man fed, Abraxas."

"Anything for my most revered father," he replied in what Hancock thought was a very sarcastic manner. "Although it's appropriate you should say so, considering my gift to you in honor of your most excellent birth."

He clapped his hands again, and the footman that showed them in earlier in the evening came in holding a silver platter. The slave presented it with a grand bow before removing the lid, and at the sight Saint Empusa gasped.

"Oh, Abraxas, you didn't…"

"I didn't know what to get you this year," Saint Abraxas said, ignoring his mother completely. "I sent inquiries, and your man here told me about your newest project."

Hancock noticed he was staring at her again, and ripped her gaze from Saint Balan's gift to stare defiantly back. Saint Abraxas was not her master, and she had no obligation to respect him. The man had given his father a piece of  _fruit_ for his birthday. Granted, it was most likely a ridiculous expensive piece of fruit, but it seemed all the man could think about was food.

"My dear boy, you  _know_ better than to arm the slaves," Saint Empusa said.

"An old school of thought, given this age of technology," Saint Abraxas scoffed. "I find it to be most amusing myself, and what could be more amusing than a whore with power over lust itself."

"The idea has potential," Master Wei said, perhaps a shade too quickly. He wiped his mouth with shaking hands, and Saint Abraxas laughed.

" _Potential_? You're the one who suggested it. I say give it to the kitten with the claws. The other one's too old. You'll be replacing it before you ever get a chance to enjoy yourself."

"Quite right," Saint Balan said.

There was the tiniest twitch from Xaviera's lips, but she gave no other indication that she'd heard what had been said, and Hancock didn't understand. Xaviera wasn't even thirty-five, still in the prime of her life. Out of all the slaves Saint Balan owned Xaviera was the one he liked most. Why would he throw that away?

"It  _would_ be funny…" Saint Balan said to himself, and Saint Empusa took a sharp intake of breath. "Oh, for god's sake, woman, shut up. It's my birthday, I'll do what I want."

The fruit was brought forward, and for the first time Hancock saw the distinctive swirls that could only mean one thing. Master Wei lifted the Devil Fruit for closer inspection and nodded to Saint Balan.

"According to my research, this is the Love-Love Fruit. I told you of its abilities earlier."

Saint Balan's eyes glittered with greed, and he turned to Hancock. "Slave, I command you to eat this fruit."

"I—" Hancock coughed as the chain around her neck sinched tighter. Another sharp jerk brought her down to her knees. A meaty hand grabbed a fist full of her hair and tilted her neck back painfully.

"You were given a command," Master Wei hissed. "You will do as you are told, and you will be  _grateful_  to do it."

Hancock heard Daji whimper from across the table, saw Xaviera stand dispassionately by and knew there was no escape this time.

_Damn it all_. Fantastical stories about Devil Fruits circled in her mind, legends and stories that didn't agree on anything except for knowledge that whoever consumed one of the mythical fruits would gain spectacular abilities at the cost of being cursed for life. Her life was already enough of a curse, she didn't want anything added on top of it.

But she didn't have a choice. She  _never_ had a choice. Master Wei took a section of the fruit and forced it into her mouth. The taste made Hancock gag, and she had to clasp her hand over her face to keep from spitting it out again. Saint Abraxas and Saint Balan guffawed at her distress, and Hancock fought the urge to throw up as she forced the fruit past her esophagus and down her throat.

She waited for some reaction—an explosion, the feel of poison spreading through her body,  _anything_ —but horrible taste aside there was nothing. She didn't even feel what her power  _was_.

"Excellent!" Saint Abraxas exclaimed. "Now with that out of the way, we can move on to tonight's entertainment." He clapped his hands, and there was a flurry of activity as the table was pulled away, leaving an open space that was quickly blocked off with a metal mesh screen.

"I've decided to take your advice and expand my interests. It took a little time to find the right slaves, but the end result has been most enjoyable. Bring them out!"

A large, muscular man wielding a sword stepped out behind the screen. Hancock had enough time to become very confused when she noticed he was trailed by another slave, a young girl with bright orange hair…

"M- _Marigold_ ," Hancock managed to choke out before the chain tightened enough that she could scarcely breathe, let alone speak.

"I've come too far to have you ruin this for me," Master Wei snarled under his breath, quietly enough that the Dragons did not notice. "Shut up and watch, and there's a chance she'll live through the night."

Hancock watched in helpless horror as both Marigold and the man settled into a defensive stance, and at Saint Abraxas's command they began their fight to the death.


	11. The Usurper Part II

Unless Hancock did something, Marigold was going to die.

The Celestial Dragons watched the fight like it were an exhibition match, except friendly spars did not arm one of the contestants with a sharpened great sword while leaving the other defenseless. Even with the handicap, with Mari's skill she might might have stood a chance if not for the fact she was already injured. It quickly became apparent that her left leg could not fully bear her weight, a weakness her opponent mercilessly took advantage of.

Hancock was proud of her sister for lasting as long as she did, but Marigold was beginning to falter. Saint Balan howled with excitement as the young Kuja was unable to completely dodge an arcing swing. Marigold stumbled back and pressed a hand against the shallow cut that sliced across her collarbone. A moment slower and it would have been her neck.

"Finish her!" Saint Abraxas commanded gleefully. The swordsman glanced at his audience and adjusted his grip on his weapon. Mari took another shuffling step backward until she was flush with the wall. When she tried to crouch into a defensive stance her leg buckled, and she squeezed her eyes closed in agony as she slipped to a knee.

The chain around Hancock's neck tightened until she could just barely get enough oxygen to stay conscious. To keep from blocking the view, the slaves were forced to stand behind the Dragons. Master Wei took advantage of this setup to keep Hancock from distracting Saint Balan from the fight. Black spots danced across Hancock's vision as she clawed uselessly at the choke chain around her neck. Haki required concentration, and she couldn't concentrate if she couldn't breathe. Slowly her efforts weakened, and Hancock swayed drunkenly into Xaviera's arms as a feeling of lightheadedness almost made her faint.

Xaviera helped her to the ground before looking questioningly up at Master Wei. He only pulled the chain tighter in response. There was a terrible look in his black eyes, something inhuman and cruel. At that moment Hancock was more afraid of him than she had ever been of Saint Balan. He was doing everything in his power to make her suffer, and he was  _enjoying_ it.

"Master Wei, you'll bruise her," Xaviera said quietly.

Behind her, Daji made a tiny noise of terror as the swordsman advanced towards Marigold with his weapon raised to deal the finishing blow. Hancock couldn't see what happened next, but based on the shouts from the Celetial Dragons, Mari had managed to roll away at the last moment.

"The threat has passed. Saint Balan will be angry if you render her unfit for service so soon after gifting her with a Devil Fruit."

Tears stung at the corner of Hancock's eyes as her lungs burned from lack of oxygen. Her sister was  _right there_. Was she really so weak that she couldn't save her?

"Please, sir, I'm begging you. Let her go."

Wei's hold slackened marginally. "You've gone soft in your old age," he said, his voice smooth as silk and derisive.

Xaviera shook her head. "No. I only ask you to consider what's truly important tonight."

Suddenly Hancock could breathe again. Gentle hands reached behind Hancock's shoulder blades and helped to her to sit up. She coughed violently and precious seconds passed as she greedily gasped for air. There was a flash of motion in her periphery, and Hancock looked up in time to see the sword arc downward with deadly grace while Marigold lay motionless on the ground.

Hancock didn't have enough air to scream as time stood still. Pushing Xaviera aside she lurched to her feet, and some distant part of her noted that Wei was laughing at her as she watched her sister in helpless horror.

Just when all seemed lost something strange happened. Marigold's form shuddered and changed shape. The sword struck the floor harmlessly, cutting through the wood panels as if they were warm butter. Not expecting to miss, Marigold's opponent overbalanced and had his weapon wrenched from his hands. For a second he looked bewildered, not sure what had just happened.

Then he screamed. The high-pitched, keening cry was one of the worst things Hancock had ever heard. With wide, half-crazed eyes the swordsman looked down to see a large snake biting into his left heel.

The man screamed again and stomped down on the snake with his good foot before collapsing. It was enough to make the beast let go, and it slithered a few feet away before transforming back into Marigold. Hancock's mouth dropped. The snake was her _sister_. This time it was Xaviera who held Hancock back as she lunged forward, the Celestial Dragons oblivious as they cheered at the turn of events.

"Let me go," Hancock rasped desperately.

"Stop it, she's won," Xaviera hissed. "Remember, Saint Balan still doesn't know she's a Kuja. Use your head for once and  _think_. What do you think he'll do if he realizes that's your sister?"

Hancock bit back a sob, but stopped struggling. Marigold wasn't moving. She wasn't moving and the venom hadn't started working yet. The swordsman stumbled blindly to the claymore that lay on the floor.

"H-help," he gasped. "Please, s-someone help."

"Kill her!" Saint Abraxas crowed. "End it now!"

The man picked up the sword and limped to where Marigold lay. "N-need help. Kill her, 'n I'll get h-h-help."

 _Get up_ , Hancock silently begged her sister.  _You need to get up._

But Marigold didn't stir. At this distance, Hancock couldn't even tell if she was breathing.

Shaking hands raised the sword into the air. The man was losing strength, and no antidote would save him now. But he continued with his task with a single-minded focus, and the weapon swung downward with frightening speed, an executioner's blade with her sister as its target.

" _Marigold!_ "

The desperate scream filled the room, and even the swordsman was distracted enough from his death-throes to turn his attention to her. Their eyes locked, and for a split-second there was that  _look_. The one Hancock had begun to associate with men, the one where they saw her outward appearance and desired her for themselves without ever taking stock of her true strength.

It was a look that she never would have had a word for on Amazon Lily, but since coming to Mariejois knew it all too well. It was a look of lust.

Power surged within Hancock, and instinctively she brought her hands together. There was a cackle of electricity that raced down her arms. Unlike the painful punishments she was used to,  _this_ sensation was good. The power left Hancock's hands and took the form of a pink beam that flew just past her master's head and hit the man who was trying to kill her sister.

The man flinched as he was struck, and instantly he turned the dull grey color of stone. Hancock blinked in surprise, not quite sure what had just happened but not willing to argue with the results. The man's sword was frozen scant inches from Marigold's neck, rendered useless by Hancock's power.

Deafening silence filled the room, and suddenly Hancock was under the scrutinizing gaze of three Celestial Dragons. Saint Empusa was both shocked and furious at the turn of events, and it was obvious that she would have like nothing more than to just shoot her. Saint Abraxas was merely curious, and perhaps a little put off that no one had gotten stabbed.

But their opinions didn't matter. Saint Balan's expression was unreadable, and before Hancock knew what she was doing she kneeled before him, keeping her head bowed in submission. Her mind raced for an explanation, an excuse, an apology,  _anything_  at all to keep from being killed.

In the end, it was Wei who saved her. "And that, your Holinesses," he said, breaking through the tension that dominated the room, "is the power of the Love-Love Fruit."

* * *

"Careful now. The sea stone must be kept in contact with her skin at all times."

Saint Abraxas's footman nodded to Master Wei as he carefully unlocked Hancock's shock collar. Three other slaves kept her pinned down in case she tried to run. For a few, glorious seconds the chaffing metal no longer rubbed against her neck, and the taste of freedom was almost more than she could bear. Hancock glared daggers at Master Wei, trying to figure out how she'd turned that other man into stone.

"It won't work," he said, almost serenely. "You didn't honestly think I would be placed in charge of Saint Balan's harem if there was even the slightest chance I could be lured by the siren call of your sex, hmm? No. I am immune to your power."

A new collar was snapped in place, bulkier and heavier than the old. It was uncomfortable to wear and almost made her feel…weak. Hancock squirmed against the arms that held her, trying to distance herself from the sudden feeling of exhaustion and malaise.

"Perfection," Master Wei breathed once Hancock gave up and lay still. He gave Saint Abraxas's slaves a signal, and they jerked her to her feet. Pudgy fingers examined her neck, pressing against the newly formed bruises there. "Couldn't be helped," he murmured to himself. He grasped Hancock by the jaw and made her look at him. "I expect there will be fallout from the little stunt you just pulled. Once again I am forced to put things to right for you. You ought to be grateful for my efforts. Remember that when I call for you."

Hancock pulled her head away, sneering weakly. "Grateful for what? You're nothing but a parasite stuck to the ass of an even greater parasite. I  _despise_ you."

Master Wei's eyes went as dark and cold as ice and he struck her across the face, hard enough to sting but not hard enough to leave a mark. "You're walking on dangerous ground, slave. Don't forget that your sister is convalescing in the next room. A single word and her life is forfeit."

"What do you think I am, stupid?" Hancock asked. "Bark all you like, but you have no control over Saint Abraxas's slaves."

That made him pause, and a slow smirk spread across his face. He patted where he'd struck her tenderly, and leaned down to whisper in Hancock's ear, "And what makes you think both of them belong to Saint Abraxas?" Sensing her disquiet, he chuckled softly. "Your attachment to them is as endearing as it is foolish. Despise me all you want, but as long as even one of them is in my grasp you will do as I say."

Hancock swallowed hard against the lump in her throat as he pulled away from her, a cold fear settling deep within her very being. She'd assumed that because Marigold was here that Sonia was as well. If that wasn't the case then they were all still in danger of Master Wei and his machinations.

What did he want with her? If the end goal was simply to oust Xaviera as Saint Balan's favorite whore there was no need to give her a Devil Fruit. With a final look of warning, Master Wei returned to the lounge where the Celestial Dragons had retired after the fight was over.

"Make sure she keeps out of trouble," he commanded Xaviera as they crossed paths.

"Yes, sir," the older woman said, bowing her head respectfully. When he was gone, she turned her attention to Saint Abraxas's slaves. "You may return to your normal duties. I will watch over her."

They hesitated, but followed the footman when he shrugged his shoulders. Xaveria waited until she was sure they were gone before kneeling beside Hancock.

"You ought to be more careful. You know that."

"I'm not like  _you_ ," Hancock said weakly, the strength leaving her limbs now that the immediate danger was gone. "I can't just…give up and do as they say."

There was a moment of silence, then a tiny sound that might have been a sigh. "I suppose not."

"What do you get out of obeying Wei anyway?" Hancock asked. "Saint Balan I can understand, but so long as you're his favorite Master Wei can't control you."

"'So long as I'm the favorite' being the key phrase." Xaveria lips twitched self-deprecatingly. "We all come with expiration dates, and I'm close to mine. Even before you came alone I could tell my time was near." She sat beside Hancock and drew a hand over her forehead. "And I fear despite my best efforts it's even nearer now. Do you know what happened to the girl I replaced?"

"No," Hancock said.

"He gifted her to a friend, who proceeded to throw her in his tank of man-eating piranhas for an evening's entertainment. I was there when it happened. I  _saw_. That was our first night together, and it was everything I could do to keep from screaming as I did what I was expected to do."

Hancock's stomach clenched as a haunted look passed over Xaviera's face. For the first time she saw the toll Xaveria's façade had on her. There were dark circles under her eyes that couldn't quite be hidden by makeup, her gaze unfocused and distant.

"My sister and I were captured at the same time," she continued. "I swore I would do whatever it took to survive, but she…she never gave up hope and paid the ultimate price. I don't know what lies Maverick has been feeding you, but there's no escape."

Hancock's head snapped up. "Maverick hasn't told me anything."

"Whatever you think, I'm not stupid." Her expression softened marginally. "And I never meant to hurt you. Hate me all you want, but all I ever wanted to do was teach you how to survive."

"I've told you before, I don't need your help," Hancock said coldly.

"Perhaps. You've managed so far by following your own way. I've spent too long doing everything in my power to maintain my position at the expense of innocents who have done no wrong. I don't know what I did to hurt you so much, but I would like to be able to make amends, just this once."

Xaviera tried to keep herself carefully guarded, but she couldn't completely hide her look of hopeful expectation. Hancock's lip curled in distaste. "If that's the case, you should be apologizing to Daji, not me. On Amazon Lily it's people's actions that count, not their words. But if you really wanted to make amends, you'd let me see my sister, not sit here and make excuses for yourself."

To Hancock's immense surprise, Xaviera nodded thoughtfully. "If that's what you want, I'll see what I can do."

* * *

Marigold was recovering in small, dark room that stank of blood and urine. She was resting on her stomach, a nasty bruise in the shape of a man's boot already forming over her right kidney. There was dried blood crusted to her shoulder from an old wound, and her leg wouldn't bend all the way. She was also terribly thin, and obviously had not had a bath in quite some time.

"Mari?" Hancock whispered, cautiously touching her sister's scapula. The effect was immediate. Marigold thrashed out like a wild animal, blindly clawing at the perceived danger. Hancock caught her wrists effortlessly, dismayed by how  _easy_ it was to subdue her.

"It's me, Mari," Hancock said, a little louder this time. Marigold stiffened before finally going still, and Hancock brushed a sheet of matted hair out of her eyes. "I'm here now."

"Han…cock?" Marigold rasped. Tears filled her eyes, and she flung her arms around Hancock's neck.

Hancock clutched her sister like a drowning man would a life preserver. "I don't have much time. My master is upset that I interrupted his birthday celebration, and I'll likely be punished for it."

"I-I'm so sorry," Mari sobbed. "I c-couldn't…I wasn't strong enough."

"No, you won. The match should have been called the moment you incapacitated your opponent. But these men are nothing but cheating bastards. Hold your tears, Mari, you won. You were beautiful tonight."

With one final sniffle, Marigold pulled away from her sister. "I never thought I'd see you or Sonia again."

"Where is she?" Hancock asked.

"We were taken to a place called the Pit the day before Saint Balan's birthday celebration. Celestial Dragons take their slaves there to fight. They bet on the outcomes and make trades with one another. I think that's how I ended up here."

"What do you mean?" Hancock said.

Marigold dropped her gaze, ashamed. "Sonia was forced to fight one of the champions for her first match. Hancock, I've never seen a man like him. He was a monster."

Icy fingers of fear grabbed around Hancock's heart. "What happened?"

"They fought to a draw. The doctor who treated her after said if she'd had a normal skull she would have been killed for sure. But she survived!" Marigold exclaimed upon seeing her distress, tightening her grip on Hancock's arms. "She survived, and we were both granted with Devil Fruits for a reward. I overheard Master Wei tell someone we were no good for the bedroom after that, and then I was sent here."

"And Sonia is still at this so-called Pit?" Hancock asked.

"I don't know." Mari's eyes filled with tears a second time. "I don't even know if she's still alive."

Impotent rage replaced the fear, and Hancock had to fight the urge to hit something. How was she supposed to escape when they were in three separate locations?

Maybe the separation was part of Master Wei's plan all along, another incentive to keep her in line. Hancock forced herself to calm down, forced herself to think clearly. This was an unexpected hitch, but without direct control over Mari and Sonia, Master Wei was also at a disadvantage. And while they were still in danger, both of her sisters were excellent fighters who had just been given Devil Fruits that could only make them stronger.

"Sonia is strong," Hancock said firmly. "Men will underestimate you because you don't fit into their narrow ideals of beauty, but you said it yourself that her so-called deformity has already helped her survive. Use their foolishness to your advantage."

"Yes, Hancock."

She touched her sister's cheek fondly. At the moment Marigold  _looked_  weak, but looks were deceiving. No one knew that better than herself. Mari was strong. She had to be.

"I must go, but I'll be back. I swear I will." Gently Hancock pulled away from Marigold, blinking rapidly to clear her vision. Marigold put up a valiant effort, but her composure crumbled and she began to cry.

Heart breaking into pieces, Hancock once again abandoned her sister to the harsh, unforgiving world of men. When she was out of the infirmary she found the slave guarding the door and slammed him against the wall.

"She will be fed," Hancock commanded, her voice brooking no room for compromise. "She will have access to clean water. She will be treated like a human being, and not some toy to be played with and disregarded at whim!"

"I-I don't even know you!" the slave sputtered.

"I don't care," Hancock snapped. For the first time since being separated from her sisters, she could feel the power of her Haki surging within her. "You  ** _will_** obey me!"

"Y-yes, ma'am!"

Satisfied, Hancock dropped him into a heap and spun gracefully on one heel. Tossing her head haughtily, she strode past Xaviera and to where Saint Balan and Master Wei were surely waiting to punish her for the crime of saving her sister from certain death.

The older woman had a curious expression on her face that Hancock couldn't quite decipher, but she decided she didn't care about that, either. She would  _never_ be as ugly as the woman before her, and made no efforts to hide her disdain.

"Let's get this over with."

* * *

If the pain stimulant was the worst punishment she'd ever received, water came in a close second. Hancock had known vaguely about a Devil Fruit user's weakness to the sea, but never knew that any standing water was enough to render her paralyzed. While other punishments focused on pain, water rendered her  _powerless_. Hancock was forced to rely on the unguaranteed generosity of her master to keep from drowning--something that Saint Balan apparently found hilarious, for he ended up dunking her four more times before they finally returned home at.

It was nearing two o'clock in the morning and Hancock had just changed into dry clothes when Master Wei entered the White Room unannounced and uninvited. She stiffened, and tried to hide her reaction by crossing her arms across her chest.

It didn't fool him, and he smirked. "Peace, I'm not here on business. I was just wanting to check and see how my valuable slaves were faring before retiring for the night."

Hancock stared blankly at him. She'd watched her sister almost be murdered for the amusement of others, been choked to near unconsciousness, and almost drowned. She had neither the energy nor the desire to fight with Master Wei any more tonight.

"Ah, well, I suppose it's to be expected." He examined his well-manicured nails. "I did want to ask your opinion on Saint Abraxas. He's a fine young man, and a worthy heir to his father's fortune. Don't you agree?"

"His father's son," Hancock said, eyes narrowing to slits. "What do you want? You don't make social calls."

Hearing the commotion, Xaviera came out of the bathroom. She, too, looked surprised to see Wei there.

"With his new interest in fighting, it would be easy to have your other sister traded to his home," Master Wei continued as if she hadn't spoken. "Given her recent successes, her value as a bedwarmer has diminished considerably, but I'm sure I could get a good return on her."

"If you're trying to threaten me, it's not working," Hancock growled. "What do you want?"

"Only for you to do as you're told. Sit down."

Reluctantly, Hancock sat on the couch.

"Your Devil Fruit," he began, "as you're becoming aware of, gives you the ability to turn anyone who lusts after you into stone, but so long as you wear the sea-stone collar you will be unable to utilize it. I alone know the location to the key that will release you. And before you do something foolish, no, it is not on my person at this moment. Kill me, and you will never be able to escape this place."

Unsure and uncomfortable with the turn in the conversation, Hancock had fight from fidgeting. "I won't ask again, what do you want?"

Wei's grin widened. "Only to make an observation: Accidents with new Devil Fruit users are common, and Saint Abraxas stands to inherit everything Saint Balan owns upon his father's demise, yourself included. And I'm sure you'll appreciate knowing that due to his size Saint Abraxas is physically incapable of having sex. Really, the worst you'd face under his ownership would be the occasional death match, but I'm sure with your skills you would fare well enough. Not to mention you'd be reunited with your sisters." Hancock's jaw dropped, and Master Wei turned to leave. "Think on it. Stupid as you are, I'm sure you'll come to the correct conclusion eventually."

The door clicked closed, and Hancock turned to an equally-stunned Xaviera. In her exhaustion, Hancock was sure she'd somehow misheard a critical part of their conversation. There was no way Master Wei could have insinuated what she…that she…

Finally Hancock recovered enough to speak. Addressing a still-dumbfounded Xaviera, she said, "Did...did he just ask me to kill Saint Balan?"


	12. The Usurper Part III

"He's insane," Hancock said. She stalked across the White Room like a tigress trapped in a cage. "This has to be a sick joke, or a test. Wei can't honestly expect me to murder Saint Balan!"

"Watch your tone. There are ears everywhere." Xaveria remained seated, but there was no mistaking her fear. Her whole body trembled with it. She had just as much to lose as Hancock did. All slaves were expected to report even the slightest hint of rebellion, and she'd heard Wei all but admit his plan to assassinate one of the Celestial Dragons.

"What does he get out of this?" Hancock asked. "He already has wealth and prestige. What more can he possibly want?"

"More wealth and greater prestige." Hancock glared at Xaviera, and she laughed humorlessly. "Master Wei is not exempt from Saint Balan's temperament. I've spent very little time with Saint Abraxas, but he does seem more stable than his father. It would certainly be a less stressful work environment."

Hancock turned this idea over in her mind and shook her head. "That still doesn't make sense. Wei is a  _free man!_  If he wanted to work for someone else, he can. There's nothing stopping him."

"Except his pride," Xaviera said. "Men like Master Wei sacrifice everything to serve one of the Celestial Dragons in such a capacity. It's considered a great honor to become one of the Masters of the House. To voluntarily walk away from that…it's unheard of."

It still seemed like a poor justification for murder, but Hancock didn't feel like arguing any longer. Motive did not matter, not to her. The only question was whether or not she would follow through with it.

"Damn him for dragging me into this," Xaviera continued, almost to herself. She scrubbed her face with her hands, as if she were trying to hide herself from the rest of the world. "I suppose I've always been a part and didn't even realize."

It was the first time Hancock had ever heard her say anything even remotely negative about the Master of the Bedroom, and that, more than anything, convinced her that the older woman was speaking the truth. The enormity of their problem crashed over her, and Hancock slid into a seat.

"I never did tell you what I wanted," Xaviera said bitterly. "It was a quiet retirement. It didn't seem like too much to ask for when he approached me about training you. I've seen others get greedy when trying to cut deals, and it never ends well.  _Fuck_." She slammed her fist against the arm of the couch. "I haven't spent the last ten years on my back to go out like this."

"Then tell Saint Balan," Hancock said. "He'll take care of Wei. A new Master will be appointed, and maybe you could work something out with him."

Xaviera let out a harsh bark of a laugh. "That's an optimistic way of looking at it. Even if Master Wei lets us out of this miserable little room before we agree to help him, and  _even_ if Saint Balan believes an accusation against one of his favored servants, and  _even_ if we're not killed by association,  _I_ am still going to be replaced. Perhaps by you, perhaps by someone else, but it will happen. At best I'll be sent down with the common whores to attend to Saint Balan's dirty laundry and be lent out to favored guests until I'm murdered in my sleep by some chit who tried to take my position in the past. More likely I'll be killed by Saint Balan himself when he finally decides I am no longer  _interesting_." She spat the word as if it were a curse. It took several long seconds and a massive amount of visible effort before she could gather herself back under control.

"And if you do decide to go through with it, your life is forfeit," Xaviera said softly. "I don't care what Master Wei says, no one harms a Celestial Dragon and lives. Your sisters may end up in Saint Abraxas's care, Master Wei may get the position that he wants, and I might be allowed to live out my days as a scullery maid, but you will be dead. And I assure you, it will not be pleasant."

Hancock took a deep breath. As much as she wanted to kill Saint Balan, she had not survived this long just to throw her life away. If she was dead there would be no one to take care of her sisters. Maybe they could survive on their own, but it seemed just as likely that Wei would decide it was best to get rid of any loose ends.

"There is a way." Hancock said, a plan coming to mind. She off Xaviera's protest with a sharp glare. "History tells us that Dragons can be slain. It's something only the strongest warriors can manage, but it can be done."

"And you believe that you're one of the strongest?" Xaviera said incredulously.

Months of failure flashed in Hancock's mind, and she shook her head. "No. Not yet, anyway. But I don't intend on dying, and I don't intend letting my sisters suffer any more for my mistakes."

* * *

Wei made his next appearance the following morning. Despite the late night Hancock and Xaviera were already up and making breakfast. At the sight of him the seastone collar around her neck felt three times heavier. It was impossible to stop the tingle of fear that crept up Hancock's spine when she saw his beady black eyes. 

Fear was an emotion that Hancock was unused to had didn't like. It was difficult to mask her trepidation, but somehow she managed as she bowed in greeting. Xaviera barely gave him even that courtesy before turning her attention back to the stove.

"About what you said last night," Hancock said, her voice cracking slightly. "I'll do it, on one condition."

Xaviera stiffened as Wei studied her. "You're coming around more quickly than I thought," he said, eyes narrowing. "What do you want?"

"The same thing I've always wanted: for my sisters to be safe." Hancock moistened suddenly dry lips before lifting her chin in silent challenge. "Which means before I do anything I need to have proof that you'll keep your end of the bargain. Get Sandersonia out of the Pit and into Saint Abraxas's care and then we'll talk."

To her surprise, Wei smiled. There was nothing pleasant in the expression, and it reminded Hancock of a snake about ready to strike. She shuddered. "You're in no position to haggle with me, girl," he said, his voice like grease to her ears, "but never let it be said I'm not a man of my word. Provided she's still alive the brat will be with Saint Abraxas before the moon turns full."

"Thank you, sir," Hancock said gratefully, bowing again as a knot in her stomach loosened.

His smile spread, showing entirely too many teeth for her liking. "As glad as I am that you're finally learning to see sense, that's not the reason I came here this morning. Saint Balan is feeling a little under the weather, and I think the services of one of you would be most appreciated."

"I'll go," Xaviera said.

"No, no, you deserve your rest. Let young Hancock start earning her keep." When Hancock hesitated, his pleasant demeanor shattered. His lips curled into a snarl and he grabbed her roughly by the nape of the neck. "Don't you dare keep your master waiting, slave, and don't give me any reason to change my mind."

* * *

"You stupid whore!"

Hancock curled in on herself as Saint Balan struck out again and again. His blows lacked the weight of a trained fighter, but what he lacked in skill he made up with in sheer persistence. Hancock didn't have Xaviera's skill tempering his rage, and her master was suffering from a devastating hangover. Her attempts only caused him to turn violent.

It didn't help that he had been expecting Xaviera, and Hancock was sure Wei had sent her instead as punishing her for defying him.

"Get out!" Saint Balan roared once he'd tired of beating her. Hancock scurried to the door, but she couldn't move fast enough for his liking. Saint Balan found one of the decorative vases favored by his wife and threw it at Hancock. She could have avoided it, but that only would have made him angrier. The vase struck her shoulder and shattered.

" _OUT!"_

Hancock ran out of the Royal Suite. Her ribs ached and she felt a new bruise forming on her jaw. She was hurt badly enough that she couldn't immediately return to the White Room. Instead she curled up outside the door and wished she could die.

She didn't know how long she sat before she felt a calloused hand touch her shoulder gently. "Hancock? What happened to you?"

Daji sounded surprised to see her, and Hancock cracked her eyes open. The fox-girl was crouched down beside her, genuine concern in her golden eyes.

"Saint Balan," Hancock croaked, and that was the only explanation that was needed. The sounds of his tantrum echoed through the hallway. "You shouldn't be talking. Saint Empusa might hear you."

"Mistress is in bed and will probably stay there till noon. Do you need to go to the infirmary?"

Thinking of the cowardly doctor who refused to help her or her sisters all those months ago, Hancock shook her head. "I need to talk to Maverick," she whispered, drawing her knees up close to her chest. If Wei found out she was talking to the troublesome slave…

"Mr. Maverick said it's too dangerous," Daji protested.

"Don't you get it?" Hancock said harshly. "Maverick helping me at all is dangerous. You walking around on two legs without permission is dangerous. Doing what our masters tell us is dangerous. For us slaves,  _living_ is dangerous. We have to decide what is worth the risk, and I'm telling you I don't care how dangerous it is, I want to talk to Maverick!"

Daji chewed on her lower lip, indecision plaguing her features. Hancock could see the exact moment she made up her mind, because her shoulders slumped in defeat. "I-I was planning on meeting him anyway. There's an unused bedroom on the second floor. It's the one with the molding of a dragon over the top of the door frame. Mr. Maverick has the key, so it will be unlocked." She took a deep, shuddering breath and let it out slowly through her nose. "Give me a little time to warn him. H-he'll not be happy."

Maverick couldn't do anything to her that hadn't done already. "I'll give you a five minute head start," Hancock said. "Then whether he's ready or not, I'm coming."

Daji darted off as Hancock began counting, "One Amazon Lily, two Amazon Lily, three Amazon Lily…"

She waited for the mink to disappear out of sight and forced herself to her feet. It hurt to stand, and she wiped some crusted blood from the outside of her nose before starting to the second floor.

Slaves and free men alike gave her strange looks as she passed, but they dared not question her. By now Hancock's position as Xaviera's protege was well-established, and though Hancock hated what Saint Balan forced her to do, there was some protection in hiding behind his shadow. One brave guardsman did have the audacity to ask where her chaperone was. At this Hancock looked down her nose at him so far that she was almost looking  _up_.

"I'm on business for Master Wei, you fool," Hancock said icily. "What's your name, so I can tell him who exactly it was who had the gall to prevent me from completing the tasks I've been given by the Master of the Bedroom."

The bluff worked, and the guard stammered his apologizes before letting her pass. There were no interruptions after that, and Hancock found the unused bedroom with two minutes to spare. Spreading her senses, she let her Haki confirm that Daji and Maverick were present before crouching near the door to Listen.

_"I told you not to let her find me until I was ready,"_ Maverick hissed in a low tone.

_"She's…she's hurt. I-I told you what happened at Saint Abraxas's. S-something's wrong, Mr. Maverick. You said you would find her sister."_

_"I didn't think she would be in the bloody_ Pit!" Maverick said. There was a sigh.  _"No matter. I'll fix this. But next time you will do exactly what I tell you, do you hear me, Daj'?"_

_"Y-yes, sir."_  Daji's voice was so soft, Hancock almost couldn't hear it even with the aid of her Haki. There was a squeak of the floorboard as Maverick came closer to her.

_"That's my girl."_ Hancock could feel the smirk on his voice.  _"It's not your job to think. Do as you're told, and the two of us will be free as larks. Trust me."_

_"But—"_  Daji's protest was cut off by something that sounded suspiciously like a kiss, and Hancock had to clasp her hands over her mouth to keep from gasping.

_"…I do trust you,"_  she said breathlessly a moment later. Ignoring the sick feeling in her stomach, Hancock decided that their five minutes was up and opened the door. Daji jumped back from Maverick like he was on fire. Hancock tried to pretend she didn't know what they had just been doing.

"You look awful, doll face," Maverick said. His normal, cocky grin was firmly in place. "Were all the festivities too much to handle?"

"Shut up," Hancock snapped back. "I don't have a lot of time. If Master Wei finds out I didn't return to the White Room immediately I'm going to be in a lot of trouble, and that's the last thing we need right now."

A golden eyebrow arched playfully. "I remind you that you're the one who insisted on this clandestine meeting,  _despite_ my instruction to the contrary. If you get caught that's your own fault."

"Do you want to escape or not?" Hancock asked hotly. Daji flinched, and for a moment even Maverick looked on edge. Stuffing his hands in his pockets, he sauntered a few steps closer to Hancock.

"The walls have ears, doll face," he said, clear blue eyes flashing dangerously. "I'd be more careful if I were you."

Hancock's scowl deepened. She didn't have time for these circuitous word games. "Master Wei has asked me to kill Saint Balan. I can do it, if I can get this collar off my neck. Unfortunately Master Wei is the only one who has the key."

"That's madness. They'll put the whole island on lockdown," Maverick said.

"It's a  _diversion_. My sisters will be at Saint Abraxas's manor, but I can't get to them myself. They've been given Devil Fruits too. They can help us fight if need be."

Maverick didn't speak for a very long time. He rubbed his chin contemplatively, his face more grave than Hancock had ever seen it. A part of her relaxed. He was taking her seriously when she half-feared he wouldn't.

"I'll be honest with you, doll face," Maverick said finally, "Daji and I aren't worth much in a scrap. I'm pretty good handling a knife, but that's nothing compared to the goons the Celestial Dragons have on their payroll. Are you sure you can handle it?"

Hancock remembered her disastrous fight with Dog Face. She was confident that if Mari and Sonia were with her, she could have turned the tide against him. "I have to be. There's no other way, not without knowing where Wei has the keys hidden."

"Bastard could have them anywhere," Maverick agreed. A boyish grin spread slowly across his face. "It's a deal, then. Daj' and I break out your sisters, your take care of Saint Balan and Master Wei. Then it's up to you Kuja to break the controller to my collar before the guards let me fry."

"I-I thought I was supposed to steal your key from Saint Empusa," Daji said quietly.

"If you can, that would make my life easier, but you've not had much luck even after your promotion," Maverick said, dismissing her with a flick of the wrist. "Get your own while you're at it. You'll stick out enough as it is without trying to explain why you're walking around with a fucking slave collar around your neck."

Daji shrank back at the allusion to her appearance. "I'll do my best."

"It's a plan then," Maverick said, clasping his hands together with barely suppressed glee. "Get back to your rooms, doll face, before you're missed. Daj' here knows the layout of Abraxas's manor, and I'm sure between the two of us we can butter Empusa up enough that she'll tell us more about his security detail. You can count on us."

Hancock wasn't sure she could. There was no denying that Maverick gave good advice, but he played fast and loose with the rules of Mariejois, and any slipup would get them all killed. She knew that he offered Saint Empusa the same services that she did Saint Balan, and Hancock knew that if  _she_  were found even  _thinking_ about kissing anyone other than her master that she wouldn't live to see another day.

His playful impulsiveness was his greatest weakness, but perhaps also his greatest asset. Though Maverick had failed to find Marigold and Sandersonia, he had made sure that Hancock survived her first night with Saint Balan. No one else dared to make that risk.

Hancock was even less certain about Daji, but she assumed that, like Hancock's refusal to abandon her sisters, that Maverick would not leave without her. That was fair enough, and a part of Hancock pitied the half-breed. She was weak and timid, yes, but despite that she found the courage to try to escape. That had to count for something.

That left Xaviera. As Hancock limped back to the White Room she decided not to tell the older woman about her plans. The more people included the greater chance there was something would go wrong, and Xaviera would be less than useless if they needed to fight off the island. Besides, Hancock could not be one hundred percent certain where Xaviera's loyalties lay, and that was a risk that she just couldn't take.

It led up to the night of the full moon. Hancock resolved to be on her best behavior, and was even willing to bow and scrape with Wei if it meant he would leave her alone. She needed to rest and let her body heal. She needed every scrap of strength she could muster if she was to get off Mariejois alive.


	13. The Usurper Part IV

Hancock was not let out of her room for two weeks. There were no windows in the suite to look outside, but every night before she went to bed she imagined the moon growing larger, waxing closer and closer to full. With so much time spent doing nothing her body was finally allowed to heal. Physically speaking, Hancock had not felt better since the days before her enslavement. Mentally, however, she was suffering.

There was so much to plan and she had no way of contacting either Maverick or her sisters. Had she been able to depend on Xaviera things might have been different. Master Wei trusted her explicitly, and she was able to come and go as she pleased. But the older woman's greatest priority was her continued safety, and there was nothing about Hancock's plan that could be considered  _safe._  Hancock did not fault Xaviera for looking out for herself, but she could and did resent her small-mindedness, the weakness of character that led her to becoming putty in Wei's hands.

Without being able to orchestrate the moving parts of their admittedly slapdash plan, Hancock had to trust that Maverick, Wei, and Daji would make good on their word while praying that no further curveballs were thrown her way. Considering all her misfortune so far, this seemed like too much to ask.

To counteract this Hancock spent a great deal of her free time in meditation, visualizing her successful escape, planning for contingencies, and reconnecting with her inner self. The reconnecting process, in particular, was difficult and not at all enjoyable. All children on Amazon Lily learned to meditate as part of the process of unlocking and strengthening their Haki. Like most things, Haki came to Hancock easily, and she had never needed to spend countless hours reflecting on herself and her ambitions to be good at it. Since the day she learned the history of Empress Zinnia, the desire to become Empress of Amazon Lily was just as much a part of her as breathing. There had never been any doubt in her mind that she would one day be ruler of the Kuja.

If that were still true then she had to escape, and if she was to escape then there could be no hesitation, no weakness, and above all no ugliness. Hancock's confidence in herself was broken nearly beyond repair, and she knew that would adversely affect her fighting ability. Pushing aside her time as a slave, Hancock focused on her previous successes before… _before_. How beautiful she'd been! She'd singlehandedly bullied the elders into letting her and her sisters prove themselves worthy as pirates, set the standard as a warrior for Marigold and Sandersonia to look up to and follow, and spoken woman to woman with the Empress of Amazon Lily, telling her sovereign in no uncertain terms what her dreams for the future were.

_You've got pluck. Make sure it does not evolve into arrogance._

And Hancock had been arrogant. Perhaps she still was, if after all this time she still believed there was a chance of success. But now Hancock's arrogance was tempered by experience. She had one, very brief window of time in which to act. One chance. It was death or worse if she failed, but if Hancock could pull it off then she could accomplish something no man had ever dared to do.

No pressure.

"You've been quiet lately," Xaviera said, pressing a cup of bitter green tea into Hancock's hands. "Tonight is the full moon. Are you sure about this?"

"Unless you decide to tell Saint Balan, I don't see what choice I have," Hancock replied.

The lines in Xaviera's face deepened. "You must think me a terrible coward."

For once in her life, Hancock did not reply.

"I think you'll understand better when you're older," Xaviera continued, looking deeply into her mug. She held it with white-knuckled grip in a way that made Hancock think she was trying to justify her actions to herself. "There comes a time when you have to see your path through to the end, even…even if you know you've made a mistake."

"And which mistake would that be?" Hancock asked.

Xaveria considered this for a moment. "I didn't look after Daji as well as I should have. If I weren't so blinded by my anger none of this would have happened."

This wasn't the answer Hancock was expecting, but before she could ask more Wei entered the room uninvited. Pointing to Hancock, he growled. "It's done. Tomorrow you are to present yourself in the dining hall and provide the evening's entertainment for Saint Balan and Saint Empusa."

Hancock's heart raced in her chest. "How do I know you're telling the truth?"

Wei puffed up like a bullfrog, his face white with fury. It was the exact sort of question that would have gotten Hancock shocked in the past, but for all the technology the Celestial Dragons possessed, there was no collar in existence that had both sea-stone and the ability to shock the wearer built into it.

Instead he snapped his pudgy fingers, and Dog Face entered the room. Hancock shrank back unconsciously, unable to forget the horrendous torture she'd suffered at his hands.

"You overreach yourself, slave," Wei sneered. "Tomorrow. Do not forget."

He stormed out of the room trailed by Dog Face. Hancock stood frozen in place for a moment before tossing her head in haughty indifference. The act fooled no one.

"I think…I think I need to go for a walk," Hancock said, pushing away the rest of her tea with trembling hands. There was still so much to do, and suddenly no time left to do it.

Xaviera studied her for a moment, wariness and tension evident in how she drew her brows together. "I'll call a chaperone."

* * *

Hancock strolled the hallways and corridors of her master's manor at a leisurely pace. It felt good to get out and stretch her legs a bit. Hancock was determined to enjoy this as long as she could even as she cast out her Observation as far as it could reach, searching for a particular Voice. There was a very real chance that this would be the last walk she would ever be able to take. She had to make it count.

They passed under a crystal chandelier that shimmered in the light, sparkling with a rainbow of color that once would have taken her breath away. Hancock remembered her first time walking these halls, how taken she'd been by the lavish, ornate decorations. Now she found the display of wealth tasteless. The veneer of beauty only masked the dark, perverse nature of Mariejois, a system that could only be perpetuated by corruption at the deepest levels. This was the world man built, occupied, and was willing to murder to maintain.

She was so wrapped up in her thoughts that Hancock almost didn't sense she was on a crash-course with Maverick until he turned the corner of the hall, walking Daji. He nearly bowled her over, and Hancock ended up tripping over the poor half-breed.

"Watch where you're going!" Hancock's chaperone snapped. "Saint Balan would be most displeased if you harmed his favorite slave!"

"As would Saint Empusa if she found you hurt hers," Maverick said cheekily, seemingly unthreatened with the free man's tone. He watched sharply as Hancock helped Daji back to her feet, eyes missing nothing. Then he grinned. "Her Most Sanctimonious Potentate has ordered that I exercise the dogs. Would you like to be the one to explain to her why I was unable to fulfill the task?"

Hancock held her breath, but it seemed like her chaperone didn't know the definition of the word 'sanctimonious'. His apology was cut off by an indifferent wave of the hand, and after a final look to make sure Daji was ready to continue, he left without saying another word.

It was always difficult to tell how much of his performance was an act, but sometimes it frightened Hancock how much Maverick reminded her of the Celestial Dragons.

* * *

Instead of alleviating her anxiety, the walk only made things worse. For another hour Hancock paced around the White Room, all restless energy and nerves. She wished she had something to hit. All her life she'd been active, working towards a goal. Now she had to wait, and it was killing her.

"I've been summoned to Saint Balan," Xaviera said, scrutinizing her closely. "Are you sure you're going to be all right by yourself tonight?"

Hancock nodded absentmindedly. It made sense for Wei to keep Saint Balan occupied.  _Someone_ had to keep up the façade of normalcy, and it certainly wasn't going to be her. "I think I'll go to bed early. I haven't been sleeping well."

"I hadn't noticed," Xaviera said dryly. "It will be all over soon. I…I wish you the best of luck."

Hancock acknowledged this with a curt nod. "You shouldn't keep Saint Balan waiting. He might get suspicious."

Xaveria's lips pursed into a thin line, but she couldn't disagree. She gathered her things and was soon gone. Hancock let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding while a knot in her stomach loosened. Having the White Room to herself was a fortuitous stroke of luck, one she hadn't expected. With Xaviera taken care of, maybe her fortunes were starting to change after all.

Hancock went to bed soon after, but did not rest. A small clock on the dresser measured the time as it crept on at an agonizingly slow pace.  _Tick, tick, tick_. Exteding her senses, Hancock felt the other women in the wing go about their nightly business, the number of consciousness dwindling in a steady trickle as one by one they went to sleep. By one o'clock in the morning only the guards outside the doors were awake.

Still Hancock waited. At two o'clock the guards changed, and half an hour later they were walking their first round up and down the hallway outside of the woman's quarters. Silently as a cat on the hunt, Hancock slid out of the White Room and stalked through the woman's quarters. She moved quickly; once the guards returned it would be another half an hour before she had a chance to escape. Relying more on her Observation than her true sight Hancock managed to make it to the lounge right as the guards were returning to their post.

She dove behind one of the sitting chairs for cover as the swinging lanterns swept through the room. They did not inspect it thoroughly. What need was there? No one in their right mind would risk death by being caught wandering outside their quarters so late. Their hubris gave Hancock all the chance she needed, and soon they were gone, allowing her to roam freely.

During her walk earlier in the day Hancock had made a mental note of all the surveillance snails between the woman's quarters and the unused bedroom on the second floor. She modified her path to avoid them, taking the long way around even though she wasn't entirely sure how well the little beasts saw in the dark. Hancock was able to avoid all except for one. With her Haki, Hancock could feel the faint buzz of consciousness that marked a den-den mushi hidden up away in a corner. Bringing herself flush with the wall she crept around the snail's line of sight until she was directly under it.

The wires of the transponder box were frustratingly out of reach, but if she jumped, maybe she could just…

Yes. Hancock was able to move the den-den mushi a fraction of an inch to the right. She waited in perfect stillness and Listened for the ones watching the monitors to sound the alarm. She felt no great stirring within the manor as the free men responded to a possible security breach.

She nearly laughed with relief. It seemed like the night guard was so secure in the Dragon's reputation that they were not watching as well as they ought. Scooting along the new blind spot Hancock made a mad dash to her meeting spot she had indicated to Maverick and Daji in the note she'd slipped to the mink earlier that day.

Presently she felt the prickle of two Voices in the unused bedroom. Maverick's inner fire nearly drowned out the second, but that was hardly surprising. Daji was quiet and unassuming in every way, and that included her Voice. What mattered was that they received her message and made it undetected. Soon they would be on their way to Saint Abraxas's to free Marigold and Sandersonia.

Hancock let out a sigh of relief and reached to open the door when her senses screamed at her to stop. She froze, her heart thundering in her chest. Observation Haki had never been her strong suit, but now that she was so close there was no mistaking the identity of the second Voice. It wasn't Daji but Xavieria who stood beyond that door. The fox-girl's voice was absent, which could only mean one thing.

They'd been found out.

Indecision and terror kept Hancock rooted firmly in place. If their master had truly called for her, then Xaviera would have gone. That she wasn't in the Royal Suite at this very moment could only mean that she  _hadn't_ been called, and had been lying earlier in the evening when she claimed otherwise. Somehow she'd found out that Hancock planned to escape tonight and was putting a stop to it.

But why come alone? If she knew of an escape attempt then it was in her best interest to alert Master Wei. Was it to protect Hancock? That didn't seem right. Hancock was a cornerstone in Master Wei's scheme to get rid of Saint Balan. To kill her so late in the game would unravel all the plans he'd worked so hard to orchestrate.

It certainly wasn't for Maverick. The two could be cordial enough with one another, but Xaviera wouldn't risk her own place for a troublemaker. Was it Daji, then? Xaveria  _did_ seem to have some old regrets towards the fox-girl, and the one time Hancock had seen the two together they seemed to genuinely enjoy each other's company. There was a history between those two that Hancock did not know, going back to the incident that resulted in Daji moving from Saint Balan's care and into Saint Empusa's.

Silently Hancock leaned her ear against the door. She hadn't come this far for nothing. If there was a way to salvage the plan she would have to find it.

" _What have you done?!"_  Xaviera hissed.  _"What are you doing here?"_

" _Could ask you the same thing,"_  Maverick said.  _"I suppose this means the game's up. How did you even know to meet us? Hancock didn't slip the note to Daj' until this afternoon. I'd say she's got balls of steel, pretending to trip over us like that in broad daylight, but, you know…"_

" _I can't believe it,"_  Xaveria said.  _"She_ trusted  _you."_

" _I'd love to sit and chat over a cup of tea, but if you're here I'm going to assume that Hancock isn't coming. It's a pity. Daj' did something useful for once and managed to snitch my key from Saint Empusa. I liked my chances better with a fighter by my side, but I'll just have to risk it on my own."_

There was the sound of a blade being drawn, and Hancock  _felt_ it as terror coursed through Xaviera's very being. Realizing she had truly come alone, Hancock burst through the door. For a moment there was stunned silence.

Maverick held a large kitchen knife in his hands, and Xaviera used the distraction of Hancock's entrance to stumble backward out of his reach. Lying motionless on the bed was Daji. In the darkness, it took Hancock a few seconds to realize that red that surrounded her was not her tail, but a pool of blood. Her golden eyes were wide open in surprise and unblinking, her body unnaturally still.

"She's dead," Hancock said, recoiling in horror. "Maverick, what happened?"

"When you slipped her the note saying tonight was the night, she knew that she had one last chance at our keys," Maverick said. "Unfortunately, Saint Empusa keeps them booby-trapped. Why didn't you wait like we discussed? Did you find out where your key was hidden?"

Hancock ignored the question and took a few tentative steps to where Daji lay. A dark stain the color of old rust spread out from a wound in the middle of her chest. Whatever stabbed her had most likely pierced her heart. Her death would have been almost instantaneous.

"Whatever," Maverick growled. "You're here and that's what matters. Do you want to kill the Queen Bitch, or should I do the honors?"

"There's not enough blood," Hancock said quietly as Maverick blocked Xaviera's escape.

"Have you gone mad?" he exclaimed. "If she's here than Wei probably knows what's going on. That sycophantic sack of shit might let you live, but I'd rather not be around when the alarms start blaring."

His knife glinted in the candle light, and before he could react Hancock was on him. Maverick yelped as she deflected his arm. She grabbed him by the wrist and bent it forward sharply while applying pressure on his triceps. In one fluid motion she brought his wrist below her hip and stepped in front of him, the knife clattering to the ground as she used his own momentum to make him fall.

"If Daji had received a mortal wound in the Royal Suite with Saint Empusa, she would not have survived the walk here. If the attack somehow missed a vital area there would be a trail of blood on the floor. She was stabbed here, most likely with this knife."

Hancock looked up at Xaviera, bile rising in her throat. "You haven't set off the alarm, have you?"

"No," Xaviera said quietly.

"Why not?"

"I wanted to see if I could resolve this peacefully. It seems I came too late."

Maverick laughed. " _Peacefully?_  Really,  _that's_  the tale you're going to spin to appease your guilty conscience? It's your fault she's dead!"

"Don't you dare blame this on me, Maverick!" Xaviera said harshly. "I never laid a hand on her!"

"No? Well, you certainly did her no favors when you tossed her to the wolves. She would have been eaten alive it weren't for me." Maverick squirmed against Hancock's hold. "Are you going to listen to this bullshit, doll face? I told you what Her Royal Bitchness here did to Daji. She was supposed to protect her!"

"The only one she needed protected from is  _you_ ," Xaviera snarled. "Yes, I was angry when Wei brought her along to replace me, but my only failing was keeping her from falling in love with a two-faced bastard like you. Once I realized that you slept with her I had no choice but to have her sent to Saint Empusa before Saint Balan found out and had her killed. Did she ever mean anything to you, or was she only another piece in your precious  _game_."

Hancock dug her knee into the small of Maverick's back to keep him from answering. "Both of you need to shut up before somebody hears. Daji is dead, and no amount of arguing will bring her back. My sisters are with Saint Abraxas, and I intend on freeing them tonight. Whatever your quarrel with one another, it has nothing to do with me." She swallowed hard against the lump in her throat. Her words seemed callous, even cruel, but she was running out of time. She would sort through this mess later, when she was back on Amazon Lily. Her first and only priority was getting out of here alive.

"Do you intend on helping me or not?" Hancock asked Maverick. "You'll find I'm not so easily killed."

"You ought to be thanking me, doll face," he said, a cat-like smile curling his lips upward. There was something unsettling in his icy blue eyes, something not quite sane that unnerved her. "Do you really think she could have blended in in the real world? Do you think we could have hidden the ears and the tail and the fur good enough to evade the Government's dogs? Daji was never getting of this thrice-cursed rock alive. I made sure the wench went painlessly. It's more than I can promise for you if you don't let me up this instant. You won't make it without me."

"I think you overestimate yourself," Hancock said coolly.

Maverick chuckled. "And you don't? Tell me, how do you expect to navigate your way back home? I hear you Amazon types don't even use proper money. I've got the savvy, you've got the brawn. Together we can make it anywhere."

"I'm not leaving my sisters."

"You know doll face, you're beginning to sound like a broken record," Maverick snapped. "Forget about them, they're a lost cause. You're not going to get out of here without sacrificing a few pawns."

Anger tore through Hancock, white-hot and furious. She pinned Maverick on his back and punched him with a haki-infused fist. There was a satisfying  _crack_  and blood spurted out of his nose. Maverick was too stunned to react before she hit him two more times.

Hancock might have beat the traitorous man to death when a hand caught her wrist. She tried to jerk free, but found that she couldn't. The gasp was like iron, and before she knew it Hancock was being thrown across the room.

She hit the wall hard, but managed to roll into a defensive crouch. Bright lantern light made spots dance across her vision. Hancock shielded her eyes and waited for them to adjust as half a dozen guardsmen poured into the room.

They were led by Dog Face. With Hancock out of the way, he managed to subdue Maverick easily. He made one sweep of the room, his eyes settling on Daji's corpse before turning his attention to Xaviera.

"You pressed the panic button?" he asked.

Xaveria nodded, the line of her shoulders tense. "Yes. I have proof that the man in your arms was attempting to stage an escape attempt. The girl tried to stop him, and he killed her. His fingerprints will be on the weapon."

"You bitch!" Maverick screamed. Blood streamed from his face as he strained against Dog Face's hold. "I could have been a free man, if not for your meddling!"

He yelled curses at her in a tongue Hancock didn't understand until the moment Dog Face snapped his neck like a twig. His lifeless body fell to the floor in a boneless heap. An icy stab of fear pierce Hancock's heart when Dog Face turned his terrible gaze on her.

"Did she have any part in this?"

There was a beat of hesitation, then Xaviera shook her head. "No. No, she is completely innocent."

* * *

Hancock sat numbly on the couch of the White Room. Maverick's blood was still on her hands, but she couldn't bring herself to care. He was dead, Daji was dead, and her plan was ruined.

"Drink," Xaviera said forcefully, pushing a cup of tea to her hands. "It's well-sugared."

Did Xaviera honestly think she could drink  _tea_  at a time like this?

"Panic button?" Hancock asked instead. Xaveria sighed.

"There's one in every bedroom in case Dragon feels like they are in danger from one of their slaves. I've been around long enough I know where they all are. I pressed it when you were distracted with Maverick."

"How did you even know?"

"Maverick wasn't the only slave with eyes around the manor, and if you were going to do anything I knew it would be tonight. I...I've caught Daji and Maverick in that bedroom before. It was the only place I could think of, but I was too late."

Then she never had a chance, and now her window of opportunity had slammed closed. Hancock clenched her cup. "I…I just wanted to be free."

"And Daji just wanted to be loved," Xaviera said, she could only meet Hancock's eyes for a moment before averting his gaze. "He preyed on weaknesses like a lion does a wounded gazelle. I'm sorry it ended this way."

"I don't think I can do it," Hancock said, burying her head in her hands. "That's why it had to be tonight. I  _can't_  do what Wei wants me to do."

"But you must."

Hancock stiffened as the familiar high, womanish voice sounded from the doorway. There was a strange serenity on Wei's round face as he stepped into the White Room, Dog Face trailing close behind. Xaviera hid her hands as they started to tremble.

"I'm told that you've both had a most eventful evening," he continued pleasantly. "Simeon here tells me young Hancock here managed to thwart an escape attempt. For such a service to Saint Empusa, I'm willing to overlook your disregard for curfew."

"T-thank you, sir," Hancock stammered gratefully. She was so confused and out of sorts with everything that had transpired already that she was not willing to question such uncharacteristic generosity.

"However, the same cannot be said for you, Xaviera. I'm disappointed in you."

The older woman bowed her head low. "I'm sorry, sir. I should have alerted you the moment I discovered the plot, but I knew how fond Saint Empusa was of Maverick. I hoped I could convince him to see sense."

Wei's thin, colorless eyebrows rose. "So you admit you were a conspirer."

"What?!" Xaviera yelped. "N-no! Of course not…"

"Lying ill becomes you, Xaviera," he said silkily. "One of you had to have known, and Simeon saw Boa Hancock subduing the traitor with his own two eyes. That leaves you."

"I would never do such a thing," Xaviera protested. "I live to serve Saint Balan. You  _know_ I would do whatever you command. You know that!"

"Then why not raise the alarm the moment you discovered the duplicity? No, I think we both know the truth." Wei took a deep breath. "I, Zhong Wei, Master of the Bedroom, High Servant under his Holiness Saint Balan, son of Saint Aza, grandson of Saint Crocell, Lord of this World and All it Contains find you, Xaviera, guilty of conspiracy and treason against your master and sentence you to death."

Xaviera tried to back away as Dog Face advanced, but there was nowhere for her to run. With her damnable collar preventing her from using her Devil Fruit, Hancock knew she couldn't overcome Dog Face's strength. She forced herself to watch as Dog Face grabbed Xaviera by the throat and choked the life out of her. Xaveria thrashed and clawed impotently against his hold, her face flushing scarlet, then purple with lack of air. Slowly, painfully she went still. It was an ugly death, and the image burned in Hancock's mind and would haunt her the rest of her days.

Hancock only turned away when he threw Xaviera's body over his shoulder with all the care he would have given a sack of potatoes. It was then she felt something wet drop off the edge of her nose.

She was crying, and no matter what she did she could not stop. Xaviera was neither her ally nor her friend, but she deserved better than this. Angrily Hancock wiped her eyes, ashamed that Wei was seeing her like this, ashamed of her  _weakness_. She flinched as Dog Face strode passed and left the suite.

"And there goes the last of the distractions. Only you remain," Wei noted. There was a coldness in his voice that Hancock had never heard before. "I must inform Saint Balan of the events of tonight. I'll call for you when it's your time."

"Yes, sir," Hancock said, meeker than she ever remembered sounding.

"Oh, and if I hear of you leaving this room again without my permission, I will personally ensure that you witness your sisters being violated, tortured, and murdered in the most painful way I can imagine. Don't think I can't or won't. Mercy has stayed my hand thus far, but even my patience won't last forever."

Hancock shrank back, not doubting in any way what he said was true. "Yes, sir."

"Await my signal," Wei repeated before he left the room, leaving Hancock more alone and lost than she ever had been in her entire life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did I just kill off half of my secondary cast? I think I did.
> 
> Anyway, we've got one chapter left and then the epilogue. Canon forbids me from killing Hancock or her sisters off, so you can take solace that she gets her happy ending.
> 
> It just won't be in this story, lol.


	14. The Dragon

Hancock felt like she was walking in a dream. Or a nightmare. Her limbs were heavy and sluggish, as if she were walking underwater. Time crept along at a snail's pace, yet all too soon she found herself getting ready for the night.

She happened to catch a reflection of herself in the mirror as she pinned her hair into an elaborate twist. She didn't recognize pale, browbeaten creature who stared back. It was hard to remember that she was only thirteen when she felt so much older.

She supposed she looked older, too. She was taller already than some adults, her breasts large enough to strain against the thin material of her dress. Maybe it would take another year or two before she developed that perfect hourglass figure so desired by men, but Hancock knew she did not look as young as thirteen. It was only a matter of time until no one questioned her age at all, and what little succor her youth offered would vanish.

Her stomach lurched at the thought, and Hancock barely made it to the toilet in time. A cold sweat beaded on her forehead as the contents of her stomach forcibly vacated her body. After throwing up she wiped her mouth with a shaking hand and went to the sink to wash away the sour taste of vomit. Fear continued to grip at her insides, making them writhe like a den of serpents.

There was one way to stop Wei's machinations. She could cut the long, midnight-black tresses so prized by her master, mutilate the alabaster skin he loved to touch. Men had such narrow-minded views of what was beautiful that ugliness was almost preferable, and if Saint Balan no longer found her attractive then Wei would have no use for her. The idea was frightfully tempting, and no one had thought to remove the knives from the little kitchenette…

But her sisters. It always came back to Hancock's sisters. Marigold and Sandersonia might be under the care of Saint Abraxas—and Hancock didn't have any way of knowing if even that was true—but she couldn't risk underestimating the extend of Wei's influence. Everything else had been stolen from her, but Hancock would hold on to them as long as she could.

Her care for Marigold and Sandersonia was an easily exploited weakness, but she couldn't help it. Maybe she would have been able to escape if not for the threat of their deaths hanging over her head, and if not escape then at least die trying. Either way she would be free of the living hell that was now her existence, but Hancock didn't—couldn't—blame them.

Still, they were hurting her. Thinking about the fate of Maverick, Daji, and Xaviera aggravated deep wounds on her soul—raw, undiluted pain that made her dizzy and faint and frightened and sick and a great many other things that Hancock couldn't know the words for, but didn't have to know to know that it hurt. And she hadn't particularly cared for any of them! If the deaths of her fellow slaves was enough to cause this much pain, Hancock couldn't imagine what it would feel like if anything happened to her younger sisters.

It was weakness. Ugliness. Hancock hated it, and she promised herself that if she ever got out of this mess, she would never allow herself to care about anyone but herself ever again.

"When I get out of this," Hancock whispered to the reflection in the mirror. "When, not if. I won't be here forever. I…I refuse."

Her voice cracked, but she was able to keep her composure as she walked out the doors of the White Room. Hancock was glad to leave. There was too much space for only one person, and with Xaviera dead she had no one to talk to. It had been almost impossible to sleep; every time Hancock closed her eyes she saw the older woman thrashing against Dog Face's stranglehold, or the surprise in Daji's cold, dead eyes, or even Maverick screaming profanities as he realized that there was no escape. Hancock was familiar with death—no pirate wasn't—but she'd never seen anything so…dishonorable. There was no meaning in Daji, Maverick, or Xavieria's demise, and in a way it was almost pathetic. No matter how she tried to convince herself otherwise, Hancock knew that there was a good chance she would share their fate.

She walked slowly, not quite stalling but in no hurry to reach her destination. Hancock could feel the gazes of the men around her burning into her back as they tried to pretend they weren't staring. Her nostrils flared angrily, but she gave no other indication that she noticed. They were fools. All men were fools, and she hated them. She'd done nothing but suffer at their hands, and if she could she'd kill them all.

But first she had to survive tonight. Hancock went to the grand hall and went to the stage using a back entrance. Wei was waiting for her, today dressed in orange robes that made him look like an obese pumpkin. Rings glittered on each finger and a heavy talisman engraved with the Hoof of the Soaring Dragon hung on his neck. There was a strange, animated spark in his dark eyes as he beckoned Hancock to come forward. His touch was almost gentle as he cupped her face and appraised her for the last time.

"Absolutely stunning. I knew I chose rightly."

Hancock gazed at the portion of wall just above his left ear so she wouldn't have to look at him. "Thank you, sir. I will do everything in my power not to disappoint you."

The words came out much, much more sarcastically than Hancock intended, and her heart almost stopped when the grip on her face tightened. Wei's eyes never left hers as he snapped his fingers and Dog Face stepped forward, a slave collar in his hands.

"Another one?" Hancock asked, unable to stifle her surprise.

"Saint Balan wishes to see your Devil Fruit this evening. The sea stone you currently wear makes that impossible, but given your…rather troublesome history I cannot in good faith allow you to preform without giving his Holiness some sort of protection." Wei slid a small key into the lock around her neck, and the collar popped free. Immediately Dog Face slid the new one around her throat, hardly giving Hancock a chance to breathe before she was bound once more.

"I considered reapplying the shock collar, but even at its highest setting that is merely designed to incapacitate, not kill," Wei said as he nodded his approval. "This is the newest development to come from the marine's research center. Embedded in that collar is an explosive device capable of blowing that pretty little head of yours right off your shoulders. Fail me tonight, and Saint Balan will be receiving a much different sort of entertainment than he was bargaining on."

Hancock's blood ran cold. That couldn't be true. The metal collar was lighter than the one made out of sea stone, and not nearly as bulky as the prototype of the auction house. There couldn't be a bomb strapped around her neck.

"You know what you're supposed to do," Wei said, his voice almost a purr. "First things first, take off that ridiculous dress. You won't be needing it."

"You can't be serious," Hancock said in alarm. "Saint Empusa will be out there. A-and the slaves serving them. You can't want me to go out there naked."

"Of course not," Wei said dismissively. "You'll be wearing your shoes."

Hancock's eyes flickered down to her black stiletto heels. For some reason, knowing she was allowed to keep them on didn't make her feel any better. "Don't make me," she said with consternation, her tone dangerously close to begging. "I can use my Devil Fruit just as easily like this. Please."

At that last word, Wei's eyebrows rose, a satisfied smile stretching across his face. "Ah, but where would the justice be in that, young Kuja?"

"Justice?" Hancock echoed quietly, confused.

"Don't you find it ironic that you, of all the slaves I've trained, continue to resist the role you've been given?"

Hancock had no idea what he was talking about.

"Where do you think you came from, hmm?" Wei continued. "Do you think your father was willing? The father of your sisters? Most likely not, and with your people's archaic tradition of not allowing any men on your island, the Kuja pirates have an even greater incentive to force themselves upon their victims. Amazon Lily has committed a great wrong against the world, and you, my dear Hancock…" Wei caressed cheek with the back of his hand, making her shudder. "As one who shares their blood, you are just as guilty. Now strip, and face the consequences of your sin."

The last shreds of her dignity torn away, Hancock did as she was told. She still didn't understand what he meant by fathers and the Kuja forcing themselves on men. She didn't have a father. No one on Amazon Lily did. As her dress feel into a pool of material around her feet, Hancock came to the conclusion that the stress of Wei's plan had finally driven him insane. He drank in her every feature, batting her arm away when she tried to cover up her developing breasts.

"No, let them see," Wei said, a manic light dancing in his eyes. He took the remote that controlled Hancock's collar out of Dog Face's hand and encouraged the disciplinarian to step forward for a closer look.

"What do you think, Simeon?" he asked with boyish delight. "Will not Saint Balan be pleased?"

"I…it's not for me to say, sir," Dog Face said, his voice rougher than usual. Utterly exposed, Hancock turned her head away, hiding her face with a curtain of dark, silky hair. She heard Dog Face swallow hard.

"You've been my loyal servant all these years," Wei said. "It's time you're duly rewarded. Go on, touch her."

"B-but, sir…"

"There's no one here to see, no one here to tell. It's only a touch, Simeon. No harm will come of it."

Dog Face could not resist an order given to him by a free man. Out of the corner of her eye, Hancock saw him reach out, his fingers hovering over her pale skin in hesitation for just a moment before rough callouses that covered the pads of his hands brushed over the crest of her hip, slowly tracing over each rib. Hancock flinched at the softness in which he touched her, gooseflesh raising the hair on her arms on end. In her surprise, Hancock's gaze met his, blue eyes locking with dark brown. His expression was clouded by lust.

A pulling sensation tugged at her stomach, and electricity traveled down her arms. Dog Face's desire dulled his senses, and he didn't realize what was happening until it was too late. On instinct Hancock placed a hand on his chest, over his heart where the brand that marked him was hidden by the thin material of his shirt. The ridges of the scar was the last thing she felt before he turned cold and hard beneath her fingertips.

Hancock stepped away from the statue that less than a minute ago had been a living, breathing man. Horrified with herself, she cringed and waited for Wei to blow her up for the crime of killing one of his most devoted servants.

Instead he laughed. "Perfection. Now, at my signal you will turn your power on Saint Balan. No longer will I have my plans ruined by his reckless temperament. At least with Saint Abraxas I will be compensated as I deserve."

Putting a hand at the small of her back, Wei guided the shell-shocked Hancock out on stage were Saint Balan was waiting for her. Dog Face was the first man she killed that night, but he would certainly not be the last.

* * *

 

"Bring out the next one!"

Hancock looked despondently at the statues that already surrounded her and wondered how many more there could possibly be. Saint Balan and Saint Empusa were finished eating, and both watched her with keen interest. Saint Empusa, in particular, had a nasty, vindictive look in her eye. It seemed like Hancock's victims for tonight were all men from the kitchen where Maverick had stolen his knife, and this was their punishment for failing to notice his theft.

Saint Balan was more subdued than usual. It took quite a bit of prompting from Wei to get him to pay attention at all, and even now he wasn't enthusiastic about the proceedings. Hancock could see the lines at the corner of Wei's mouth deepen further and further as the meal progressed. Served him right for killing one of Saint Balan's favorite slaves hours before his plans required the Dragon to be relaxed and happy.

The next slave brought out for punishment was a young man with shaggy blond hair and a two-day old beard. He took one look at Hancock before whirling to face Wei. "What the hell is wrong with you people?! She's just a kid!"

This was a first, and contrarily Hancock felt offended. She wasn't a child, and hadn't been one for a long time.

"Turn your eyes on Saint Balan's crowning jewel," Wei said. "Look, and see what you will never be able to obtain for yourself."

"Like hell I will. I thought I had it bad where I was at. You all are sick."

"You were given a command, slave," Wei said softly, dangerously.

"Fuck you. The only reason I played by your rules so far was because I was looking for my wife, but since it seems that's not going to happen…" he shrugged his shoulders. "If I'd known this was the kind of thing that happened at Mariejois, I would've arrested you all years ago. You all can eat shit and die."

"A marine?" Saint Balan asked, interest piquing even as his wife made a strangled noise.

"Captain Jackson McCurtain, at your service. Here, let me give you all the proper salute you deserve."

Jackson lifted his heavily shackled hands as far as he could and raised both his middle fingers in the direction of the Celestial Dragons. Saint Empusa slammed her hands against the table in outrage, shrieking for someone to kill him, and kill him now. Guards rushed the stage. Hancock was brushed aside as they tackled the former marine to the ground.

One of the guards drew a sword to deliver the killing blow when Saint Balan's booming laugh filled the room. The sound sent a chill of fear down to the very core of Hancock's being, and she shrank back behind one of the statues she'd created.

"My dear wife, allow me to take care of this for you," Saint Balan exclaimed. "A clean death is far too simple a punishment for a wild beast like this. An example must be set!"

Saint Balan drew himself up to full height and walked up onto the stage. Jackson fought against the arms that held him, but he was bound in chains and pinned down by the Dragon's personal guards. It was like Hancock was looking into a picture of her own useless struggle, and Jackson only stopped when Saint Balan put his boot on his neck.

"Slave, come here," Saint Balan said to Hancock, his eyes never leaving Jackson. The former marine made a gurgling noise as the pressure on his throat increased. "Hurry, before my foot gets tired. It would be a shame for the fun to end so soon."

Hancock approached cautiously, afraid of the deadly calm in Saint Balan's voice. It would have been better if he were shouting. At least that she would have understood.

"Set him up," Saint Balan told the guards once Hancock was beside him. They rushed to do as he said, and a few moments later Jackson was staring hatefully at the Dragon through a layer of matted hair.

"Slave, lick my shoes," Saint Balan said. It took Hancock a moment to realize he was addressing her.

"Sir…?"

"I said lick my shoes!" he snapped. Afraid of what would happen if she angered him further, Hancock got on her hands and knees, heat flushing her cheeks as she licked Saint Balan's polished black boots.

"H-hey, stop that!" Jackson exclaimed. "I said stop! I'm the one who should be doing that. She hasn't done anything wrong!"

"Enough," Saint Balan said with a cold finality that made his mouth snap closed. He nudged Hancock's shoulder with his foot. "You, stand up."

Hancock stood.

"Now spin in a circle while balancing on one foot."

Hancock did as she was told, even though it was easily the most ridiculous command she'd ever been given. Her eyes flickered to where Wei still sat, but there was no signal. The Master of the Bedroom was waiting to see how this little farce played out.

"Now kiss me."

Hancock didn't have time to hesitate before Saint Balan took a handful of her hair and jerked her head up towards his. She didn't move as his lips found hers, retreating within herself so she wouldn't feel his tongue explore her mouth, wouldn't taste the wine on his breath. Sensing her lack of response, Saint Balan bit down on her lip, hard enough to draw blood. It was a warning. She would not get another.

"Stop it!" Jackson cried desperately. "This isn't right. She's just a kid, you shouldn't…"

"Shouldn't what?" Saint Balan challenged. "She's mine to do with as I please. Didn't you see? No matter how inane, no matter how depraved, she will fulfill my every desire."

"But…but…"

"She will do it," Saint Balan said, cutting off Jackson's weakening protests, "because I am a god, and her only duty is to serve me. Even the mighty Kuja bows down before me. Everything in this world is mine. You, arrest me? The one whom the admirals serve? You forget your place. And you are not the only one."

Hancock froze as Saint Balan leaned down and whispered in her ear, "Kill him, and then kill Wei."

Master Wei jumped to his feet, the color leaving his fat cheeks. Hancock didn't think he had heard Saint Balan's command, but it was plain that he could guess. He caught Hancock's eye and nodded. Now. She would have no better chance than this. Saint Balan turned her around, pulling her body flush against his. The crown of Hancock's head only reached his jaw, and she could feel the vibration of his silent laugh in his throat.

Jackson squeezed his eyes closed. "I'm sorry," he whispered harshly. "I'm sorry I couldn't save you. Any of you."

His pity was almost more than Hancock could bear, and the anger—always so near the surface, but with no outlet for escape—bubbled free. Hancock jerked out of Saint Balan's arms and kicked the ex-marine in the jaw. His head snapped back, and the guardians scattered as the young, naked creature pounced on him like a cat on its prey. He was her enemy. They were all her enemies, and she wouldn't stop until she paid them back one hundred-fold for the suffering she endured.

"You. Have. No. Right. To. Look. Down. On. _Me_ ," Hancock snarled, punctuating each word with a heavy blow.

Hancock stopped to catch her breath, surveying the damage that she had wrought. Jackson was still breathing, blood streaming from a broken nose and a split lip. She pulled her fist back one last time, intending to make the next blow her last.

"Y-you're cryin'," he gasped through a mouthful of broken teeth.

"I am not—" A cold, wet tear dripped off the end of her nose and onto Jackson's cheek. He let out a long, gurgling sigh, blood bubbling out of the corner of his mouth.

"I'm sorry, Iris. I couldn't…make it in…time…"

Hancock brought her blackened fist down. She felt his cheekbone splinter under the force of the hit, his head slamming into the stage floor with a sickening crack. Slowly she stood, wiping her eyes with her back turned so Saint Balan couldn't see, not caring when she smeared blood over her face.

The silence was deafening save for Jackson's last, pained gasps for air. If he got medical treatment immediately he might still live, more likely Hancock had caused a hemorrhage in his brain. He might have minutes left, maybe an hour or two, but he would eventually die.

Hancock turned to Wei. The display of violence had wiped the smarmy confidence right off of his smug face. Finally it was his turn to be afraid, as he silently begged her with his eyes to use her power on Saint Balan.

And maybe Hancock would have, had she not seen him turn on Xaviera and Dog Face. Saint Balan might treat her like she was some sort of toy, but to Wei she was nothing more than a pawn in his quest for power. If she killed Saint Balan for him, the Hancock had no doubt that he would find a way to get rid of her and her sisters. After all, he couldn't risk someone finding out about his plans.

Although that was a moot point now, wasn't it? Saint Balan wanted him dead. Regardless of what she did, Wei's life was forfeit. This way, at least Hancock had a chance of living another day.

"The Celestial Dragons are gods in human form," Hancock quoted, finding perverse pleasure in watching Wei squirm as his own words were used against him. "They are good, pure, and above reproach. It is the duty of every man, woman, and child who lives under the banner of the World Government to submit themselves to the holy Celestial Dragons, whether by serving in the military, paying their due taxes, or entering the service of a World Noble directly."

Hancock stalked forward as she spoke, and Wei let out a high-pitched squeal of alarm. Frantically he searched for the remote to her collar, but it was nowhere to be found. Saint Balan laughed, holding up the small black box between two gloved fingers.

"Looking for this, Wei? Your schemes were amusing enough to begin with, and I'll admit I've gotten a great deal out of enjoyment out of breaking this one's will, but I'm starting to find you tiresome. I was rather put out when you had Xaviera killed. I had great plans for her retirement."

"It's not too late," Wei said as he scrambled backward and fell. "I-I'll give you your sisters. I'll give you whatever you want!"

"I have the highest honor of serving Saint Balan," Hancock said coldly, grabbing him by the front of his ridiculous clothes and hoisting him to his feet. She had wanted to do this for so long, she might actually thank Saint Balan when it was all over with.

"And I told you the day we met," Hancock hissed into his ear. "I told you that if you hurt my sisters I would kill you. It's taken longer than I would have liked, but a Kuja keeps her word."

The silk in her hands slowly hardened and turned a rough, pearly grey. Wei's black eyes widened farther. "I-Impossible!"

"You say you are incapable of lust, but it seems your body disagrees," Hancock noted. "Didn't you notice your heart beat faster every time you saw me? Were you not aware of your own obsession? Did you not desire me and my power? If that isn't lust, then I don't know what is."

Bits of stone crumbled away as Hancock released her grip on his robes, and she caressed the side of his face in the exact manner he had done to her. A line of grey followed every touch, as if she'd dipped her fingers into a pot of paint. In one, last desperate attempt Wei tried to punch her, but Hancock caught his fist easily, turned it into solid rock, and broke it off at the wrist.

Wei screamed and was only silenced when Hancock brought a blood-stained finger to his lips. A small spark passed from the end of her fingernail and turned his mouth into stone, freezing his expression in a grotesque contortion of horror.

When the deed was done Hancock stepped backward, feeling strangely empty. Somewhere beyond the thunderous pounding in her ears she could hear Saint Balan laugh. What had once been Zhong Wei was now a block of pure stone. Perhaps he had not lusted over her like most men did, but he was a man, and he _did_ lust. A vague, sick feeling churned in her stomach as she realized that she had just sealed her future.

Daji had followed Maverick, Xaviera had followed Wei, and now she had thrown her lot in with Saint Balan. And as the sea stone collar was put back around her neck and Saint Balan led her to the unused bedroom of the White Room, Hancock wondered if she wasn't better off sharing their fate.


	15. Epilogue: The Exception

Hancock never thought she would step on the shores of the Saboady Archipelago again. The place was nothing more than a looking glass into all of man's vices, the pit where her nightmare began. She hated it, was afraid of it, and hated herself for her fear.

Yet here she was, lying in one of the rooms above a bar owned by a retired pirate. Elder Nyon claimed the woman was a friend, and Hancock had no choice but to trust her. The former empress was the Boa sister's only chance at returning to Amazon Lily. Having to rely on someone banished from the homeland (or had she fled? Hancock's history lessons were fuzzy) rankled, but Hancock had her sisters to think of.

Beside her, Sonia stirred in her sleep, whimpering as she suffered whatever horrible visions her mind conjured. Hancock stroked her hair, unsure how to console her and not willing to bruise her already severely-wounded pride by waking her. Mari—who insisted on sleeping on the space between the bed and the wall—also rested fitfully. But at least they slept. Since escaping Mariejois they hardly dared to close their eyes. Surrounded by enemies on all sides, there had been no choice but to push themselves to the brink of exhaustion. There was no way they could have continued as they had, and if not for Elder Nyon they would either be in chains once more or dead. Probably dead. Hancock would never allow herself to be taken back to Mariejois except in a body bag.

Sonia sighed, snuggling her head deeper into the crook of Hancock's arm. Hancock smiled weakly, her own exhaustion washing over her like a lead blanket.

Closing her eyes, Hancock spread out her senses, checking for the hundredth time that they were still safe. She could feel the now-familiar presence of Nyon in the next room over, as well as the proprietor of the bar. They slept peacefully, not harried by the nightmares that plagued the Boa sisters' dreams. Finally allowing herself to relax, Hancock began to drift into slumber.

Something prickled at the edge of her consciousness, and Hancock's eyes sprung open. Someone was there, someone who didn't belong.

There was a man downstairs.

As quickly as she could, Hancock disentangled herself from Sonia and slunk out of the room. With the swift, catlike grace she descended down the stairs without making a sound, but she needn't have bothered. The man made plenty of noise for the both of them as he navigated the dark bar with the ease of familiarity. Hancock's heart skipped a beat. They'd been set up. The man had not broken in, and he had no reservations about propping up his feet up at one of the tables as if he owned the place. He knew. He knew, and Hancock's course of action was clear. With one, quick strike she could be rid of him. Then Hancock would wake her sisters and flee from the traitorous Nyon and her accomplice. They would find a way to Amazon Lily using their own strength.

She studied the man from the stairwell, looking for any sort of weakness. The light of a full moon streamed through the windows, and Hancock could see the outline of his well-built figure straining underneath his clothes. Sharp, clever eyes glittered behind a pair of round spectacles. There was a fluidity to his movements that was rarely seen outside of accomplished fighters, a comfortable nonchalance that made it seem like he hadn't a care in the world.

"Well don't just stand there. Come out and say hello."

Hancock flinched at the man's deep, melodious voice. Without realizing what she was doing, she stepped out away from the shadows and into the pooling moonlight.

"So you're the one, eh?" Standing, he walked behind the bar and found an oil lamp and a lighter. He lit it, and soft yellow light bathed the room. The man met Hancock's eyes and brought a metal flask to his lips. Hancock waited for his gaze to wander, for the hunger to fill his eyes. He would see her beauty and mistake her as weak. Then his wandering hands would try to take what his eyes lusted over, stripping her of what little dignity she had left…

Hancock's grit her teeth into a silent snarl. She would kill him before he had a chance. There was no collar around her neck, and she would show him that a Kuja's beauty was found in her strength and not the vapid, fleeting standards of man.

But the man kept looking into her eyes. Then he smirked, shaking his head. "How Gloriosa gets into these situations I'll never understand."

Unnerved by this unexpected response, Hancock lifted her hands in front of her. "Mero Mero Mellow!"

Nothing happened.

"What in the world…?" Hancock breathed in horror as the beam washed uselessly over him. The man chuckled quietly and downed the contents of his flask in one gulp.

"I understand your confusion, but I like my girls older, blonder, and better fed. Not to mention willing." He sat back down and combed his fingers through greying hair. For the first time Hancock noticed the scar that ran from his hairline down his cheek, barely missing the eye.

"Who are you?" Hancock demanded.

"Oh, just an old friend of Gloriosa. She called in a favor she's held in her back pocket for twenty years asking me to help you girls get back home. Shouldn't have bothered. I'd have done it for free."

His featured softened, and for some reason this made Hancock angry. "We don't need help from the likes of you."

The man looked at her with something akin to pity. "Go to back to your sisters. Tomorrow will be here soon enough. You can hate me then."

"You can't tell me what to do," Hancock said, her hands curling into fists.

"Suppose not, but we set sail first thing in the morning, and it'd be a real shame for you to escape Mariejois only to get eaten by a sea king because you were too tired to fight back."

Hancock wanted to argue, but what the man said made sense. "I don't trust you."

"Can't blame you for that. I wouldn't trust me either. Either way, I'm going to bed."

Then the man kicked off his shoes, doused the light, and laid down on the floor as if it were the most comfortable place in the world. Hancock gaped and considered attacking him on principle, but ended up retreating back up the stairs. She was nearly out of earshot when she heard him murmur quietly,

"We're not all the same, you know."

Hot, angry tears filled Hancock's eyes and she had to fight from storming into Elder Nyon's room and giving her a piece of her mind. Slipping back into bed, she buried her head into the pillow to keep the noise of her sobs from waking her sisters. But in her exhaustion, it wasn't long before she succumbed to the siren's call of sleep, descending into the hell that were her dreams.

And downstairs Silvers Rayleigh lay awake, contemplating the fire he'd seen in the young girl's eyes. He wondered if someone would ever be able to reach the unbroken spirit that still existed, trapped beneath years of abuse and mistreatment. He hoped that in the future she would be brave enough to go out to sea once more, and then have the opportunity to find out for herself what a man really was.

 


End file.
